


Ares and Athena through the years

by ChopinWorshipper



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Ancient Roman Religion & Lore, Norse Religion & Lore
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aphrodite cares, Ares is actually smart, Ares just goes through a lot of shit okay, Ares respecting women, Athena isn't always wise, Athena's world view gets shattered, Break Up, Childhood Trauma, F/F, F/M, Forced Marriage, Getting Closure, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, LGBTQA+ Characters, Mentally Disturbed Ares, Multi, Other, Polyamory, Possessed Ares, Protective Athena (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Protective Olympians, Psychological Trauma, Queerplatonic Aphrodite/Hephaistos, Sibling Love, Sibling Rivalry, Sorry Not Sorry, The Olympians Being The Olympians, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Zeus Being an Asshole (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), ares needs a hug, but i was too tired to name every single character or pairing in this story, deep down, forming new relationships, it gets really dark and gory at times, millennia of slow burn, non-sexual Ares/Athena, non-sexual half-sibling incest, not-so-obvious villains, parental Hera, some really sick shit happens, sometimes Zeus does care, the Olympians being a tight-knit fam, the roman gods being assholes, there will also be crossovers, this fic contains basically every greek deity in the pantheon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:41:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 22
Words: 74,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24668557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChopinWorshipper/pseuds/ChopinWorshipper
Summary: I'm currently rewriting an old fanfic, that I don't quite like anymore. I have changed some stuff both in the plot and in my characters, so I'm rewriting this whole damn thing.Ares and Athena start out hating each other, but circumstances force them to grow together over a long time frame.But they are immortal gods, who have all time of the Kosmos.And as they slowly learn to actually know and understand each other, they grow closer to each other, until they are able to form a deep bond between their souls.Before Athena knows what's happening, she realises, that love doesn't need to be physical.Also the Olympians being protective and a tight-knit family, when push comes to shove.
Relationships: Aglaia of the Charities/Hephaestus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Amphitrite/Poseidon (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Aphrodite & Ares (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Aphrodite & Hephaestus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Aphrodite/Ares (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Apollo & Artemis (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Ares & Athena (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Ares & Eris | Discordia (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Ares & Hephaestus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Ares/Athena (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Athena & Hephaestus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Demeter & Hera & Hestia (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Hades & Poseidon & Zeus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Hades/Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Hera/Zeus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 82





	1. Prologue

Athena and Ares are both deities of war and they have the same father.

But that's where the similarities end.

Pallas Athena is a goddess of many things: wisdom, knowledge, learning, war strategy, arts, crafts, purity, justice, science …

She is one of the brightest goddesses, if not THE brightest goddess on Olympus, equal to her father Zeus and his favourite daughter. One of the most popular and powerful goddesses of her pantheon, Athena is incomparable.

A tall, strong and lightly tan lady with long black hair, sharp bright blue eyes and a stern, but calm expression.

Athena is a sober woman. She doesn't let her emotions get the better of her and prefers to act on her brilliant mind.

And she is a genius. She can do the most complicated science, deepest philosophy and most difficult engineering.

She is skilful.

Whatever she feels like making, she can make it, even a ship or house. Her own loom and her chariot are self-made, her horses are held by a bridal _she_ has invented, the olive trees in her garden are grown and tended to by her own hand.

The goddess of wisdom loves learning and remembering. Her head contains more knowledge than all humankind combined. She knows things beyond mortal ken and what she remembers, she remembers forever.

Athena is no pacifist by any means. But she has strong morals and principles; she is a staunch believer in solving a conflict with wisdom and diplomacy, rather than violence. If those she watches over go to war, only a pragmatic and reasonable cause will get her to help them.

She is wise, practical and sensible, among a family of gods driven by their emotions and whims. Someone has to have the brain cells and being the voice of reason is just in her nature.

Athena does have a streak of mischief and always gets out of trouble, but still she is kind and somewhat prim.

Her siblings call her “Miss Perfect”, but her father calls her “My Little Owl-Eye”.

She understands, why they all call her the way they do.

Athena understands almost anything.

Except for one thing: her half-brother Ares.

That deranged, volatile savage …

Ares is Athena's complete opposite.

He is god of the darkest aspects of war, of the battles, the violence, the bloodlust, the slaughter.

He is wild, even savage sometimes, untamed and fearsome, like the wild beasts he surrounds himself with.

All the spirits and deities of war accompany him, when he joins the fray.

Eris, the goddess of strife and discord, daughter of primordial Nyx, is his friend.

He delights in the sound of clashing swords, breaking bones, screams of pain and flesh tearing apart. The sackings, plunders and massacres please him and bring a twisted smile to his face. Sometimes he interferes in battles and wears his scars like trophies.

Ares is insane, irascible, aggressive, cruel, merciless and bloodthirsty.

The other gods like arts, crafts, silly gossip and all that stuff.

He doesn't care for any of that; he is devoted to what he represents.

He has quite a love and sex life to talk about, but he never does. Most of his escapades have nothing to do with love, he knows. But he is affection-starved and will certainly not refuse, if somebody fancies him.

And there is quite a bit to fancy.

After all Ares is attractive in his way, tall, strong and tanned, with fierce and wild blood red eyes and unruly black and red hair.

He is used to being checked out by both men and women and has long stopped counting all of his mistresses. But he remembers the name of each of them and always cares about his children.

Only they (and his younger full sisters) can make his twisted smile turn warm and genuine and soften his hard, cruel gaze.

However, Ares isn't just a god of war, but also of civil unrest, riots, rebellions and uprisings. Yet he is also a god of civil order. A conundrum, but it makes sense; he, who can disturb order, can preserve it too (if he chooses to, that is).

Ares doesn't care what others think of him, not anymore.

Their antipathy used to hurt him, but over all the millennia he has learned to deal with it and now it doesn't get to him anymore. He is unpopular among gods and mortals alike, has hardly any temples of his own. Not that he needs them; every single war is a homage to him.

Alone, when he is pitched against a certain other war goddess, he always loses. That's fine by now, he has learned to live with it.

But emotional as he may be, he never shows when he gets upset or emotionally hurt.

Being defeated only after putting up a long and vicious fight, that at least has a modicum of dignity.

But for the others to see him break … that would be too humiliating for him to handle.

He has a reputation to keep and they would never understand anyway.

He can't afford weakness, for he's also god of courage, endurance and strength.

Sometimes, the gods use him as some kind of police officer, when they have some mortal to take care of. For that he is just good enough, he thinks and sneers.

He despises them. They only know his twisted grin, his insane love for war. They don't respect him, so why would he respect them?

Though, there is one goddess he hates more than anyone else: His father's favourite, Zeus' “little Owl-Eye”.

His half-sister Athena.

That smartarse, goody-two-shoes freak.


	2. You're weird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ares and Athena meet each other for the first time. It gets awkward really quick.

Ares was excited.

A new goddess had joined the Olympians and he would get a new sister!

Well, not really sister, as she had another mother. (That ticked him off a little; what could another woman have, that _metera_ _¹_ didn't have double? After all, she was married to father! Then again, Ares was certain that there was no love between his parents.)

But he decided, that he wouldn't blame his new sister. After all, it wasn't her fault, that she had another mother, right? Right.

Ares wondered, what she was like.

He hadn't met her yet, but _metera_ had said, that today he would!

He already had a few sisters: the Horai (Eunomia, Dike and Eirene) and his little sisters Eileithyia (who was still a toddler) and Hebe (who was still a baby).

They loved him and surely his new sister would love him too.

 _Metera_ had said she was a war goddess – just like he was going to be a war god! Maybe they could have some awesome fights and he would impress her with his strength!

Although … mum had said she was already grown up. How was she grown-up? When father had informed them of her impending arrival, he had said, that she was younger than him!

But that would mean … no, he would not finish that thought.

And _metera_ liked her, right? If she liked her, everything would be okay.

The little boy couldn't wait to meet his new sister!

They would play and he would protect her from all the bad guys, he would!

It was already noon. When would he finally meet her? He was getting more restless, then he already was normally.

“Ares, sit still and eat your ambrosia!”, Hera scolded her son and Ares tried, he really did! But he was just too excited!

“ _Metera_ , when will I meet my new sister?”, he wanted to know.

Hera sighed; her son was just always so impatient!

It wasn't that she didn't like Athena (on the contrary, her mother Metis had been Hera's friend, to whom she owed a lot, and Athena was almost her spitting image).

But Ares was too excited for his own good: Athena was completely different from him and Hera knew her son would be disappointed in the end. Her poor little boy.

“You will meet her in the afternoon, okay?”, she promised and fondly stroked his black and red hair. The Queen of the Gods loved her son, she really did. But sometimes she was just overwhelmed and couldn't handle his ungovernable temper.

After lunch, Iris came to inform the boy to wait for his new sister in the training hall. Before she could even end her message, he was already off, dashing through the palace.

Finally he came to the gymnasion (why did it have to be the gymnasion? He didn't want to run around naked!²) and waited. But after a while he got bored, so he started doing a few exercises. Sure, he was really good at throwing spears, but practise was important.

He also tried swinging a sword, that actually belonged to his father, but was still too big for him. But the voice in his head (because he had one of those) told him how to do it, so it wasn't actually that difficult.

The pre-teen hadn't noticed, that someone had entered the room, until one of his spears missed its mark and was caught by someone's bare hand.

Ares froze, when he saw the two gods standing in the doorway.

It was a tall woman, the one who had caught his weapon so effortlessly, and …

He paled and began to apologise profusely, because he hadn't meant to hurt anyone and holy shit, he was so frightened of his father!

But instead of yelling at him, Zeus just reprimanded his son: “Ares, how often have I told you, that these weapons are not meant for children! You are way too young to handle those!”

It took all of Ares' courage to not tremble in fear in front of the stranger next to his father.

 _Calm down_ , the voice in his head whispered. _Think of your role in the play. Play your act._

Right. Play the act.

So he swallowed his fear and got his innocent, huffy child on: “But father, I got bored. And it's not like you ever have time for me or show me how to handle those! Besides, apart from that one spear, I was doing really well!”

Zeus was about to object, but the woman next to him put a hand on his shoulder.

“It's fine, father. No one got hurt after all.”

Then she gave Ares his spear back. “Next time, let an adult teach you how to use these, before something like this happens again.”

 _I_ am _an adult!_ , the voice in Ares' head huffed.

But Ares wasn't listening. “Father, who is that?”

Zeus sighed in frustration: “Well, this is not how I planned this to go down. Ares, meet your new sister, Pallas Athena. Athena, this is your older brother Ares.”

She smiled gently: “Hello, brother.”

The King of the Gods scratched his head. “Well, I have work to do. You two have fun, I'll be back soon!” Then he was gone.

Meanwhile, Ares stared at the newcomer. _This_ was his new sister?

He stood on his toes and still could only just about reach to the height of her chest.

“Whooooh, you're so tall!”, he marvelled, his blood-red eyes growing even larger.

Athena chuckled: “Yes, I am.”

“And you look so strange! Your eyes! They are so blue! Like, really blue! Like the sea! And hey, did I already say that you're tall?”

“Yes, b-”

“I want to be tall like that too! No, taller! I want to be taller than you! Then I will be tallest and everyone will stare at how tall I am, because I will be so tall and strong!”

“I'm sure you will be”, Athena assured him kindly.

“And when I'm tall and strong, I will protect _metra_ and all my siblings and everyone will like me!”

“Of course, Ares”, Athena agreed, even though she wasn't that sure.

But children needed to have dreams and she didn't want to upset her new brother, especially not in their first meeting. Even though she was technically younger, she still wanted to be his big sister, the best in the world. She wanted to be there for him and teach him everything she knew. Well, maybe not everything, but the things he needed to know. She wanted to be his role model, his teacher and just someone worth looking up to.

So she smiled, listened to the 12-year-old's ramblings and agreed, where it was due.

But there were a few things, that irked her.

“Do the others not like you?”

His face darkened. “No. They say I'm insane. What does that even mean?”

Athena bit her lip, but explained: “'Insane' is another word for 'crazy'. But don't worry, I don't think that you're-”

“I'm not crazy!”, the boy protested, “I can't help, that I have a voice in my head!”

Her eyes widened.

A voice in his head … ? Now she was concerned.

Because of that, and …

“Can I ask you something?”

Ares looked a little apprehensive, but consented.

Athena suddenly found, that she had trouble expressing, what she wanted to know. But her curiosity was overwhelming, so she tried to put this as tactfully as possible (which was hard, she knew how boys reacted to what she was about to ask).

“Earlier, when you first noticed me and our father, I couldn't help but notice, that you were rather … uncomfortable.”

 _Afraid_. A word no boy or man liked to hear about himself. But it was so obvious, that he had been positively frightened – of Zeus.

Why was he so afraid of his own father?! That was _not_ normal!

Unfortunately, Ares seemed to get exactly what she meant.

He gritted his teeth. Shit.

“You mean 'scared', don't you? I wasn't scared! Boys and men don't get scared! That's pathetic!”

Athena frowned. “Not really. Sometimes it is, but more than often it isn't.”

That took Ares by surprise. “What? I don't get it.”

She sighed: “How about we sit down and I explain it to you?”

This really weirded him out (and agitated him, he was not gonna lie), but he humoured her.

The blue-eyed goddess and he sat down and she began to explain.

Unfortunately, she noticed after a while, that the boy had stopped listening after a while and now was drifting off.

“Ares!”, Athena said sharply and he startled awake.

“Sorry, sorry!”, he apologised hastily, “But I didn't understand a word and-”

“Calm down, I'm not angry”, she tried to soothe him, “But next time let me know, if you can't keep up. It's kind of hurtful, when you're trying to explain something and the other just dozes off.”

He looked really down.

Fantastic. This was not how she had imagined this to go down.

After some awkward silence, he spoke up again: “Your question from earlier …”

“You don't have to answer it, if you don't want to”, she said.

He sighed in relief: “Good. Because I don't.”

“But if you ever feel ready … if you want to talk to someone, I'm here for you, okay?”

Ares tilted his head. “You're weird.”

Athena smiled lopsidedly. “So are you, brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Metera - Greek for "mother" (I hope this is right, because I don't speak Greek) 😅  
> 2) Gymnasion actually means "place of the naked" (gymnos = naked), because students (male only) usually wore little to no clothing, while performing their gymnastics and other sportive exercises. 😅


	3. It's not fair!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ares gets punished over nothing and falls out with Athena.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a scene from the comic "Daddy's Girl" by www.deviantart.com/a-gnosis, who was so kind as to allow me to use it for this chapter. It's a comic about Athena's birth and youth and you really should check it out, because it's awesome.

Athena was slowly running out of patience.

She had tried everything to educate her brother and shape him to his best, but so far there was no progress at all.

She spent time with him, because their father Zeus never did. And at first the boy was obviously grateful.

But while she felt bad, that her father neglected him in favour of her, Ares was extremely difficult to spend time with.

He was painfully stubborn, didn't bother to control his temper (which, as she soon found out, was quite violent) and seemed to have an attention span of three minutes.

The only time they seemed to get along was, when they were training. But she could never do something peaceful together with him and even their training sessions soon became frustrating, when he realised, that he could never measure up to her.

She had no idea, why he was so aggressive, but it made her extremely unhappy. Just what had happened for him to become this way?

One day she offered to teach him a board game and he agreed. But he lost the game and as a result his temper too (what a sore loser!). He swept the boardgame off the table in a fit of rage, broke it and accused her of trying “to make him look dumb” by acting “so fucking smart”. Then he had screamed a lot of nasty things at her, until she finally snapped and broke the table and a chair.

And to make it worse, right as she had finished, Zeus came in. Assuming, that Ares was responsible for this destruction, he smacked him across the face.

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU???”, Zeus roared and sent his son up to his room.

Ares had rushed off in tears and with a lot of profanities and “I hate you!”s.

This made Athena feel incredibly miserable.

She told her father what really happened and promised to replace the furniture, but it made her feel in no way better.

Although Zeus apologised to his son for the slap later, he also demanded that the boy apologise to Athena for the insults. Ares only got angrier – and refused.

Now Athena was sitting in front of her newly invented loom and weaving gloomy scenes on it.

This was not how she had imagined sisterhood.

Her older half-sisters were so much more sensible, her younger ones so much nicer, but Ares …

he had so many negative emotions pent up within and it seemed like a deep pit she couldn't reach the bottom of – if that pit even had a bottom.

Later she decided to go to his room and apologise for getting him punished over her tantrum.

However, when she knocked on his door, he refused to let her in.

“Go away!”

She frowned. “No. Ares, why do you hate me so much?”

She had noticed that a while ago and wanted answers.

At first Ares didn't answer. Then he suddenly screamed: “YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY??? FINE! YOU PISS ME OFF! IT'S NOT FAIR! YOU'RE THE ONE, WHO BROKE ALL THE FUNRNITURE AND I JUST BROKE THAT STUPID BOARD! AND I'M THE ONE WHO GOT STRUCK! AND YOU??? HE DIDN'T EVEN SO MUCH AS SCOLD YOU! IT'S NOT FAIR! I'M HIS FUCKING SON AND HE LIKES YOU BETTER THAN ME?! WHY?! WHY DOES EVERYONE LIKE YOU BETTER THAN ME?! NO ONE CARES ABOUT ARES, IT'S ALWAYS ATHENA THIS, ATHENA THAT! IT'S ALWAYS THE SAME! 'OOHH, ATHENA IS SO SMART!', 'ATHENA IS SO STRONG!', ATHENA IS SO TALENTED!' IT'S ALWAYS ABOUT YOU, YOU, YOU! I HATE YOU SO, SO MUCH!!!”

Ah. So he was envious.

But what was she supposed to do about something she couldn't help?

So what, if she was the most popular goddess on Olympos now, so what if everyone liked her! She

didn't really care, had never asked for popularity in the first place.

Sure, popularity opened many doors, but she didn't need this much attention!

She was perfectly content with the things she was goddess of.

But Ares was different.

Everyone scorned him and he hadn't even got his patronage yet.

Athena had a dark suspicion of what he would become in the future, but she had hoped to prevent this.

Yet, Ares was naturally volatile and there was so much pain within him.

He only found friends among the Kakodaimones¹, dark spirits, who brought woe and evil, wherever they went. They were the children of terrible Eris. Who just so happened to be strife and discord incarnate and was also the person behind the name Thero (the name of Ares' former nurse).

Of course this company was a bad influence on him and only got him more isolated on Olympos.

It was a vicious cycle.

Her musings were interrupted by faint sobbing from the other side of the door.

Apparently Ares had assumed, that she had left and was now allowing himself to break.

Athena's heart shattered.

Oh, her poor brother!

“I'm sorry”, she sadly spoke through the door. “I never meant for things to turn out like this. Maybe we can resolve this and get along again? Some day?”

_Please._

For a long time the silence weighed down on them, heavy as lead.

Then it was finally broken by Ares' voice.

But it was cold and void of all emotion, so unlike him.

“Leave.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) The Kakodaimones are spirits/personifications of the woes and evils of mankind.  
> Here a quote from Hesiod's Theogony:   
> "But abhorred Eris (Strife) bare painful Ponos (Toil), and Lethe (Forgetfulness), and Limos (Starvation), and the Algea (Pains), full of weeping, the Hysminai (Fightings) and the Makhai (Battles), the Phonoi (Murders) and the Androktasiai (Man-slaughters), the Neikea (Quarrels), the Pseudo-Logoi (Lies), the Amphilogiai (Disputes), and Dysnomia (Lawlessness) and Ate (Ruin), who share one another's natures, and Horkos (Oath) who does more damage than any other to earthly men, when anyone, of his knowledge, swears to a false oath."


	4. Absolutely ridiculous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Years have gone by since Athena first met her little half-brother Ares. A lot has changed on Olympus, but Ares' dislike for her hasn't. On the contrary, now that he has grown to age, the dislike is mutual.

Years had passed, a small window of time, when you were immortal.

Athena couldn't help but wonder, where the point was in immortality.

What was the point of living eternally, when nothing lasted forever? Why were immortal beings needed in a universe that, they all knew it, wouldn't be eternal?

Yet, she seemed to be the only one thinking and worrying about that.

Not that it was a surprise; Olympos had grown full and busy over time.

She had known, that her father couldn't keep it in his tunic, but this was getting absolutely ridiculous!

Not that she minded the new family members. They livened up their home and made it colourful.

Nearly all of the new gods were children of Zeus.

There were the twins of Leto, Artemis and her younger twin Apollon. They were still children, but everyone could see, that Zeus favoured them, almost as much as he favoured Athena (Hera on the other hand hated them).

He had already given them great responsibilities.

Artemis would become a goddess of the hunt and the wilderness, of maidens, childbirth, the light of the moon and the frost and dawn. Currently she was under the tutelage of silver-haired Selene, the Titaness of the moon herself.

She and Athena got along well, both being practical, virgin goddess, although Artemis was more cheerful than she was.

Apollon was to become the god of light, prophecy, oracles, shepherding, archery, music, poetry, plagues, medicine and young boys. Helios, the Titan of the sun, was his teacher and still drove the sun chariot across the sky.

Athena found him rather annoying, as he was selfish, kind of prissy and pretentious and the fact, that this attitude was just an act to hide his insecurities made it quite pathetic.

Hermes, son of Maia. He was new. He almost always had mischief on his mind, but he also was just as intelligent as Athena was (even though not as wise). His range of responsibilities was constantly expanding, as he couldn't sit still to save his life. Then, he also had that irresistible charm, that had everyone wrapped around his cheeky, thieving fingers.

Athena felt a certain fondness for him that was somewhere between sisterly and motherly (she wasn't quite sure).

And then there was … Aphrodite, the daughter of Ouranos … which technically would have made her a Titaness, if she had been Gaia's daughter, but she wasn't. Like Athena, she had been born an adult and with no mother, but that was where the similarities ended.

She was the goddess of beauty and physical love and acted accordingly. Athena loathed the older woman's flirty behaviour, how everyone was thirsting after her and playing with others' emotions seemed to be completely natural and okay to her.

She seemed to be especially interested in Ares and he was obviously heads over heels for her, but apparently was scared of actually giving into her advances. Athena couldn't help but be glad, that he wasn't naïve enough to take the bait. That woman was just too superficial and sooner or later would be repulsed by his twisted, volatile personality (just like everyone else).

But one thing Athena had to grant Aphrodite: she was experienced. If the love goddess was being serious about something, she could even be helpful.

Apollon had predicted the arrival of a few more gods and to be honest, Athena couldn't wait to meet them. Maybe she would get along with them like with all of her other siblings!

Well … almost all of her siblings.

There was one she didn't get along with at all.

Ares.

Ever since he had told her to leave as a young boy, their relationship had deteriorated.

Through all these years, the lanky boy she had first met had grown into a handsome young man with a tall, manly frame. He now wore his hair short on the right side of his head, while keeping it longer on the other and let it cover half his face.

It was the hairdo of an edgy emo teenager, but to Ares' defence, his hair concealed a nasty burn scar on the left of his face.

And he had finally got his patronages; he now was officially the god of the horrors of war, the bloodshed, violence and all the other brutal aspects.

And Ares fit perfectly into this new role, he _loved_ his job!

He loved war for war's sake, was bloodthirsty and violent, something that disturbed gods and mortals alike. He had other, more agreeable patronages, but they were minor and drowned out by his appalling love for war.

His circle of friends found no approval among the gods either, as Eris and her children were still the deities he was closest to. On the other hand he was one of the few, who actually could talk to Hades. (Athena wasn't quite sure about all of the reasons, but Ares' fondness for Kerberos was certainly a part of it; Hades just favoured people, who got along with his three-headed dog.)

But even when Ares wasn't doing anything, most of the other gods were scared of him. He just provoked it. Everything about him was intimidating.

First off, the war god almost never smiled. Not genuinely, that is.

When he was on the job, he could grin and laugh like the maniac he was, but he never _smiled_.

Only three goddesses ever got to see a smile from him (even though it was rare): his sisters Eileithyia and Hebe.

Even now, with his defiled nature, his sisters still looked up to their big brother, even though Athena failed to solve the mystery of _why_. But Eileithyia helped their brother out of his armour and treated his wounds, when Apollon was busy (or unwilling) and Hebe drew his baths and filled his cups. Their faces brightened up, when they saw him, even if he was covered in blood.

And Ares adored his little sisters, his face and voice would soften around them, he smiled for them and them only.

Only once Athena had seen his smile and that was by accident; he had been spending time with Hebe and hadn't noticed Athena being there.

His smile had been beautiful, warm, gentle and fond and she had memorised it. After all, she had known, that she would never get to see it again.

Because Ares hated Athena.

He hated her with a burning passion, made it very clear and Athena knew why. To the other gods it looked like your average divine sibling rivalry, but it was so much more.

He hated her.

And she despised him.

She couldn't stand his defiled nature, his lack of wisdom or even common sense, his unnecessary violence. He was savage, unrefined, rude and noisy.

She hated how he called her “Smartarse”, “Miss Perfect”, “Goody-two-shoes” and other things.

But above all things, she hated when he called her “Daddy's Owl”.

It was a perversion of her father's pet name for his “Little Owl-Eye” and Ares' way of mocking her status as their father's favourite. Athena was closer to Zeus than anyone, safe Hera.

Not so Ares. He despised his father and the feeling was absolutely mutual.

Athena still wished she could fix that, but there was nothing she could do.

So she kept indulging her half-brother in their absolutely ridiculous sibling rivalry, defeating him in fights, arguing with him on a daily basis and besting him in a variety of things.

Unlike Ares, Athena excelled at almost everything.

She desired nothing less than perfection and “Miss Perfect” was a nickname she often heard from the others, but out of Ares' mouth, it wasn't a compliment.

She knew that their rivalry was absolutely ridiculous.

She knew that her half-brother Ares hated her.

But that was okay. Because she hated him too.


	5. Mutual loathing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yup! It's sibling hatred in all its glory! 😆

Athena stood in front of a block of marble, chiselling a work of art.

Art was something she was familiar with. She was the goddess of it after all. No one weaved prettier tapestries and covers, painted as skilfully or chiselled a statue as well as she could.

She was making a statue of Ares.

Hera had asked her to, because she wanted to decorate the dining room with statues of the twelve Olympians. Twelve, because two more had joined them in the meantime.

Athena was glad, that Ares hadn't seen his statue yet. He would just brag and tease her to no end, until she would struggle to resist the urge to rip his head off.

Once done with her work, she asked the Queen of Olympos to evaluate the statue.

Hera nodded in approval: “Well done, Athena. If I didn't know better, I would mistake this statue for my son at first glance! You even captured his crazy grin! It looks, like he is about to jump off the pedestal! Flawless as always, my dear.”

Athena duly lowered her head. “You give me too much credit, Hera.”

But the brown-eyed goddess shook her head with a gracious smile. “Nonsense. I give credit, where credit is due. I will now leave and tend to my duties.”

“Thank you. I do have to finish Hephaistos and Dionysos.”

Athena smiled after the retreating queen.

While Hera could be a living Tartaros for almost all of her step-children, this did not apply to Athena. The bright-eyed goddess wasn't a bastard, no product of a liaison. Her mother Metis had been Zeus' first wife and Athena simply had grown up inside her father's head, before being born.

Metis had helped Zeus save his siblings from the body of Khronos and in addition had been Hera's childhood friend. So Hera became a second mother to Athena – which was more than most other deities could say. And Athena was fond of her difficult step-mother.

She turned back to the remaining blocks of marble and sighed in satisfaction.

After all, she had put quite a lot of effort into Ares' statue.

Not that she would ever admit it, but she had invested more work into his statue than into all of the others. But all of her statues were flawless, so no one would notice.

Still, she wanted to show off, make him speechless and show him that she was better.

Because she was. In every way.

She was, and always would be, “Miss Perfect”.

And she would never feel anything but loathing for Ares.

Ares strolled through the room and glared at the statues Athena had made.

Especially at his own.

 _Hey, this statue is a perfect replica of you!_ , the voice in his head remarked.

“Yeah, no shit”, he growled under his breath.

There was no denying, she had done well. That piece of rock looked exactly like him, from the blood red cloak to the wild shock of black and red hair and the grim expression.

How the Tartaros did that woman do that, everything she started always ended up being perfect!

But he noticed something else.

The other gods apparently couldn't tell, but Ares, albeit not an art expert, had keen eyes: his statue had been worked on more intensely than the others. Only Zeus' and Hera's statues had been carved to look this lively.

The war god got the message and his glare hardened. Of course, that blasted wisdom goddess had to show off on his statue of all things, huh?

“Do you like how Athena depicted you?”

Ares jumped and whirled around, startled by his mother's voice.

He scowled, but begrudgingly admitted: “I recognise myself, I suppose.”

Hera grinned smugly, knowing that this was the closest her son would come to praising his half-sister's work.

He snorted, rushing out of the room and went back to his own place to let off some steam.

He was so angry!

It was always Athena this, Athena that!

By Tartaros, how he hated her!

How badly he wanted to grab her long, thin neck and snap it like a twig! Sadly, she was an immortal goddess and Zeus would incinerate him with a thunderbolt for touching “his little Owl-Eye” (because screw the fact, that Athena was _taller_ than her father!).

He hated, how she was smarter than him. She always knew everything better, how everybody else loved her, his own parents included. Even the mortals liked her better!

He hated, how she always would tell him, that what he did wasn't “wise”.

He hated, how she was stronger than him. In every conflict she overpowered him and it made him go mad with rage and envy.

He hated, how she looked down on him (everyone did, but that wasn't the point!). In her eyes, she was a savage and a stupid thug and he knew it.

He hated, how she judged him for what he did. Yes, he had blood on his hands, was violent and loved war for war's sake. But how did that give HER the right to judge him?!

Had she ever asked for his point of view?

Had she ever bothered to get to know his friends?

Had she ever even wondered, why he hung out with those guys?

Well, surprise, surprise, NO!!!

Miss Smartarse had never even tried to understand him!

Because Athena was oh-so-perfect, good at everything, wise, modest, compassionate, virtuous, strong, untouchable, blablabla!

Except that she wasn't perfect at all!

To Ares, she was just a holier-than-thou, a dirty trickster with no more empathy than himself.

He would never feel anything but loathing for Athena.


	6. Caught and exposed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yep. It's that funny incident, where Hephaistos catches Ares and Aphrodite in his bed with a net. XD

Athena was weaving a wedding outfit and a blanket for her half-sister Persephone.

The spring goddess would soon be officially married to Hades, the King of the Netherworld.

The dress and cover would be Athena's wedding gift.

But then she heard somebody's voice swearing outside.

Looking out of her window, she saw Hephaistos pass by in his wheelchair, sputtering all kinds of curses. Tears were running down his brown and dirtied face, which was distorted with fury.

It didn't take Athena's genius to know, what was going on.

Probably Aphrodite had cheated on him and Hephaistos had finally found out.

Athena couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

Aphrodite and Ares had been in a relationship long before the crippled smith had come along and had both been incredibly unhappy, when Zeus and Hera had married the love goddess off to the young god of smithery. Athena could understand, that Aphrodite didn't love this husband and that Ares was jealous. For that she didn't blame them.

But still, Hephaistos was a bright god and just as smart and talented as Athena was. They enjoyed competing over who was the better sculptor and inventor and most of the time, it was a draw. He was sensible too, most of the time, that is. She considered him her equal.

And if you ignored his deformed, crippled legs and the grime he was always covered in, he didn't even look that bad either.

He was a sweet guy and deserved better than being married to the promiscuous … _woman,_ that was Aphrodite. She didn't love him and Athena suspected that the love goddess was currently cheating on her husband with either her established lover Ares or with Apollon, who was extremely handsome and charming and had tried to win her over several times.

However, Aphrodite was underestimating how cunning her husband could be. And if Athena knew him at all, she could be sure, that he now was in his smithery, concocting some perfidious revenge plot. Normally the black-haired god was kind and generous, but if he was wronged, he showed no mercy. Hera had already been on the receiving end of his vindictiveness and Aphrodite would be no exception.

Most other gods knew by now not to mess with the divine smith. He was wasn't the man for fun and games.

Just a few hours later, Athena's suspicions were confirmed.

She was watering her olive trees, when she heard a terrifying scream and nearly dropped her garden hose in shock.

When she peeped over her garden wall, she saw Hephaistos roll out of his palace.

“HEY, EVERYONE!!!, he shrieked, “DO YOU WANT TO SEE SOMETHING FUNNY?! COME HERE AND SEE WHAT A WONDERFUL WIFE APHRODITE IS TO ME! LYING IN MY BED WITH DESTRUCTIVE ARES, SHE IS! YOU'LL FIND THEM LYING THERE AND THE SIGHT MAKES ME SICK! THEY'RE TRAPPED IN MY NET AND WILL WANT TO GET AWAY, BUT I WON'T LET THEM! NOT BEFORE ZEUS GIVES ME BACK THE BETROTHAL GIFTS I GAVE FOR HER HAND! COME ON! IT'S A _REAL SPECTACLE_! SHE'S AS SHAMELESS AS SHE IS BEAUTIFUL! AND HE TOO!!!”

Now Athena really dropped her garden hose.

Seriously? They had made a cuckold of Hephaistos in his own marriage bed?! What the Tartaros was wrong with them???

A moment later, all the male gods of Olympos were darting out of their palaces and running towards Hephaistos' house. Except for Poseidon; he was at home in the sea, bed-ridden, if Athena remembered correctly. That gave her an idea.

She really shouldn't join the crowd, it was indecent. But her curiosity was too strong.

So she closed her eyes and concentrated. She became a little shorter, her long black hair shortened and turned blue, her skin grew a bit darker, her frame turned male and her sea blue eyes turned coal black. Poseidon would be pissed, but who gave a damn? He was grumpy all the time and she had a plan to execute.

So she hurried to join the others, but when she got there and followed them to Hephaistos' bedroom, she didn't believe her eyes: there, trapped under an adamantine net, lay Aphrodite and Ares. In Hephaistos' marriage bed, as he had said. Hardly able to move at all. Exposed in an _extremely_ compromising position.

For a few moments, everyone just gawked at the sight.

Then Hermes started laughing. Apollon joined in. Until almost everyone was cackling and jeering, except for the exposed lovers, obviously. Even Athena couldn't help but chuckle at the situation. Hephaistos only smiled in grim satisfaction.

That is, till the other gods began to comment on what they saw.

“Damn, what a sight!”

“They sure look hot like that!”

“Hey, I wouldn't mind swapping with Ares.”

“I want to be next!”

“No way, I want a turn, when they're done!”

“STOP TREATING HER LIKE A PIECE OF MEAT, YOU BASTARDS!!!”, Ares roared and struggled harder under the net, but to no avail.

Finally Zeus stopped laughing and called everyone to settle down: “Now, now, everyone. This is not a laughing matter (even though the sight is hilarious). You two”, he turned to the trapped pair, “brought this upon yourselves. Sleeping in your husband's or brother-in-law's bed, really?”

Athena could make out Ares' face twisting in scorn, as he scoffed: “That's coming from you?! The only ones here, who weren't born out of wedlock are Hephaistos and myself!”

Ares had a point there.

The cutting reminder also got the others to finally stop laughing.

Zeus on the other hand was not impressed. “If you don't count myself and my brother Poseidon here, yes, that is true. And now to you”, he turned to Hephaistos, “Let your brother and wife go. This is simply-”

“Oh no”, Hephaistos snarled, “First, give me back the bridal gifts I paid to you, when you jumped in as Aphrodite's father! And then we can talk! I refuse to be married to her any longer!”

Zeus lifted an eyebrow and refused: “This is a marital matter, not the public spectacle you made of it. I have no obligation to comply with your demands.”

The fire god's face flushed with fury, but before he could protest, “Poseidon” stepped in: “Let's not turn this into an argument. Brother, just give him back the bridal gifts. You stepped in as her father, because she has no real parents. As such, you too are responsible for her actions.”

Zeus huffed, but nodded his assent.

Meanwhile, Aphrodite was crying a torrent and sobbing in shame and horror. Ares was desperately trying to shift them both into a less embarrassing position (he was failing) and growling curses at everyone.

Athena was starting to feel bad for them, even though they'd had it coming.

Therefore “Poseidon” turned to Hephaistos: “Now that this is settled, don't you want to let them go?”

Hephaistos scoffed: “Oh Erebos, no! These two owe me reparations as well! They made me a cuckold in my own bed, so _why_ would I possibly release them?!”

Athena considered for a second what her uncle would do.

Then she pleaded with Poseidon's voice: “Come on, let them go. I promise, that he shall pay whatever penalty you ask for – pay in the presence of all the gods.”

But the smith shook his head: “Earth-shaker, as noble as your plea is, you're asking too much of me. These two-”, he scornfully nodded towards the adulterers, “-are as unreliable as they come. If I release Ares and he runs off immediately, will I get no compensation?”

Athena knew that Hephaistos was right. Ares and Aphrodite would run off as soon as they were free and honestly, she wouldn't blame them; perhaps, if she had been in this situation, she would do the same (not that it would ever happen, but still).

So “Poseidon” offered: “Hephaistos, if Ares indeed runs off without paying compensation, where it is due, I myself will pay whatever price you ask for.”

Under the net Aphrodite was still crying.

Ares had ceased his insults to everyone and was now trying to comfort her, hugging her protectively and shielding her from their view as best as the net chain allowed.

Athena couldn't help but find this endearing.

So these two really loved each other after all. The goddess of wisdom had assumed, that their relationship was superficial, that they only liked the other for their looks. Apparently she had been wrong for the first time in her life.

And as she looked down at the wheelchair-bound smith, she could tell, that he was having the same realisation – and that his resolve was cracking.

“Come on”, “Poseidon” coaxed good-naturedly. “You're going to divorce her anyway and surely you'll be better off without her. So, even though Ares should be the one doing it, does it _really_ matter, who compensates you? Besides, we all know I have far greater wealth than he does.”

_I hope this is something my uncle would say …_

Because sure, Poseidon was not a good person (in fact, he was a horrible person), but he was nothing if not generous. And even though he would be angry, that she had promised compensation in his name, he surely would forgive her, once she'd tell him that he now could call in a favour from Aphrodite.

Eventually “Poseidon”'s bargaining, the lewd comments of the other gods and the way the humiliated couple acted shattered Hephaistos' resolve.

“You know what?”, the blacksmith god spoke, “Screw it. I can't think of an excuse to refuse you any longer.”

He rolled his wheelchair over to the bed and lifted the net.

Of course, just as predicted, Aphrodite and Ares immediately made a run for it and vanished through the window within less than a second.

Zeus shook his head, then he sent everyone home and went back to tend to his own business.

“Poseidon” stayed behind, telling everyone that “he” had to negotiate the bargain that was to be paid.

Hephaistos threw a glare at the window the injurers had fled through, before turning and scowling: “I fucking told you so!”

“Now, now, nephew. We all saw this coming, so how about you tell me, what you're asking for me to provide?”

“Right.”

Athena almost frowned at the long list – Poseidon would have her head – but only nodded in acknowledgement.

Hephaistos chuckled: “Pondering how you will tell our uncle, that _he_ will pay a price _you_ promised me, Athena? And yes, I know it's you.”

She shrugged and turned back into herself. “What gave me away?”

“Please, we all know that Poseidon is at home in his crystal palace under the sea. Forby, he wouldn't do something this nice for both Aphrodite and Ares! He would have laughed with the others, like the old horndog he is!”

“Point taken. So what are you going to do now?”

The blacksmith sighed: “I will officially divorce her and then … I don't know. Lead the single life and do my job, I guess.”

“I'm so sorry”, Athena told him gently.

“Don't be”, Hephaistos contradicted. “None of this is your fault. It's all theirs. Shit …”

He buried his face in his hands. “… I knew, that she wasn't in love with me. I'm not blind or naïve, I could see it in her eyes. But she told me that she loved me – at least in some way – and you know what? I actually believed it – wanted to believe it! And yes, I knew about her affairs, yet I accepted them and kept swallowing my pride. And how did she repay my tolerance? By fucking my brother in my marriage bed! Seeing this … that was just the last straw, you see.”

“Of course, I understand”, Athena assured him gently. “One can only take so much infidelity.”

Hephaistos went on: “And I even knew about this thing with Ares, but I didn't take it seriously … I thought it was just a tryst and … damn, I just wanted to believe, that she only likes that crazy fucktard for his looks. Well, now I have seen the truth … have seen how they interact with each other! Oh, fool that I was! She loves him! She actually _loves_ him!”

“I know”, Athena confirmed sadly. “The feeling is obviously mutual too. Has been for a long time.”

The smith inhaled sharply. “So everybody knew, that these two were a serious item, except for myself? Perfect, just perfect!”

“I didn't think it was that deep”, the wisdom goddess defended herself. “I mean, with them being, who they are-”

Suddenly Hephaistos laughed, startling her.

“So the goddess of wisdom is capable of bias and prejudice? I'm surprised, Athena – and not in the good way.”

That stung.

Of course Athena had been called out before, namely by Ares and Poseidon, who were both envious of her. So she had always brushed it off.

Hearing such a waspish remark from Hephaistos was an entirely different matter. She simply hadn't pinned him to be the snappish type. He had to be exceedingly hurt.

“I'm sorry”, the smith whispered, “I didn't mean to lash out at you. It just … everything is just too much.”

“I know, I know. Hey. Need a hug?”

“Yes, please.”

They spent the next hour with her hunched down and him bawling relentlessly into her shoulder.

Finally, he calmed down and thanked her.

She nodded in response and took her leave. After all, she still had a lot to do (and in addition, she'd have to clean her now messy shoulder from the tear stains and snot).

A few hours later, Poseidon's far-speaker buzzed on the night table next to his sick bed.

He groaned, but reached over and picked up.

“Hello?”, he rasped into the speaker.

To his surprise (and agitation), it was Athena's voice that answered: “Hello, uncle, it's me, Athena. I have some bad and some good news. But first, wanna hear something … uh, something you'll probably find funny?”


	7. Grief and reconciliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ares and Aphrodite grieve for their daughter Harmonia, while Hephaistos reflects on his old grudges. But Harmonia's spirit has never truly left and the unifying grace of the goddess of harmony still works its magic.

The Olympians had now got a new member: Dionysos, the new god of wine, madness, theatre, parties, vegetation and the afterlife.

But it wasn't celebrated as much as it would have normally. The young god didn't mind; he knew why and he understood, that this was no time for a party.

They would have been thirteen now, but Hestia had given up her place in favour of him, thus they stayed twelve. Athena found, that the round looked kind of … incomplete without Hestia.

But her chair wasn't the only empty one.

Two other deities, who were still here, but hardly showed their faces these days, were leaving their places at the table vacant. Yet, when they did show up, they often killed the mood in the room, just by looking like the Algea¹ themselves. Zeus tolerated it, as he could relate to their grief.

Ares and Aphrodite looked strange in mourning attire.

Crushed, far less alive, mere shadows of their former selves.

Clad in black from head to toe, no jewellery or armour, they even were wearing ashes.

Aphrodite's lovely hair had been shorn, the way mortal women did, when mourning. It was odd to see the bright love goddess wear nothing but black. Her duties no longer delighted her, nor did the other Olympians ever hear her bell-like laughter these days.

Ares was neglecting his job entirely and never looked anything but weary, broken and defeated. He had dark rims under his eyes and always seemed close to either tears or a fit of anger. And he had taken to wearing a brooch with Harmonia's face engraved on it.

Dear, blameless Harmonia, Ares' and Aphrodite's beloved daughter and sunshine, who was gone, gone forever, who would never come back, who had forsaken divinity … who was _dead_.

It was still so hard to believe for everyone.

Goddesses didn't die.

Only once had Athena seen a goddess die: her first friend, whose name she had adopted to honour her. Except that Pallas had simply become one with Pontos² again.

She was, in a way, still there.

No so Harmonia; she was really, truly dead and nothing would ever bring her back.

Ares knew, that the rest of the family had trouble stomaching this too.

Even for him and Aphrodite it was hard to believe, and even harder, if not impossible, to bear.

_My lovely daughter, my little sunshine, my joy and pride, my sweet child, she is gone, gone, she will never come back, she is dead, dead, dead-_

Both parents had fallen silent.

They rarely spoke anymore and if they did, it was always about Harmonia. They didn't know how else to cope with their grief.

For their divine children it was the same.

Once they'd had a fight with their youngest sons Phobos and Deimos, who had confronted them and doubted, that if one of _them_ would die, their parents would be remotely as affected. The fight had escalated into screaming, shattered earthenware and broken furniture, but had ended in tears and a group hug.

Ares could understand and relate to this, his children's worry, still he didn't want to hear such an accusation ever again.

There were moments, when the pain got too overwhelming, that Aphrodite would randomly burst into tears or wails and Ares would clench every muscle in his body, trying to suppress his emotions.

They both knew why things had come to this.

Ares had known before Aphrodite had.

The necklace … the necklace Hephaistos had once given Aphrodite (after their divorce, after _the incident_ had happened), who in turn had given it to her daughter as a wedding gift.

That cursed piece of jewellery that, as Ares soon had found out, had been made with malicious intent.

Dionysos (this boy, who was both his half-brother, his nephew and his daughter's grandson, this god of madness, who had caused part of the trouble) had been the one to point it out.

And once Ares had actually taken a look at the necklace of Harmonia, it had dawned on him.

The necklace had been made by Hephaistos, obviously, but he had also recognised the handiwork of Eris, the baleful essence of her and her children. Whatever way the blacksmith had persuaded her and the Kakodaimones to help him was beyond Ares, but that wasn't the point. It was oozing with misfortune and woe.

And then he remembered overhearing a conversation between the smith and his new wife, Aglaia.

The thing was fucking cursed.

The maker had wanted her to suffer for her parents' crime.

 _My Harmonia, my child, he wanted her to suffer for something that was mine and Aphrodite's fault, he wanted to hurt her, because she reminded him of_ the incident _._

The realisation had made Ares burst into dreadful laughter, terrifying every living being within a hundred mile radius.

Of course.

How could he ever have assumed, that his brother would possibly gift something to the daughter of Ares and Aphrodite, to the girl who had been conceived on that disgraceful day.

How could he ever have hoped that Hephaistos would forgive them?

Of course Hephaistos hadn't forgiven them.

He hadn't forgiven Ares and Aphrodite for betraying him, so how could he have forgiven their daughter to come from it?

At first he had wanted to take his wrath out on them directly, but had quickly noticed, that they themselves left no opening for the curse to work (then again, Ares was friends with Eris and her brood of evil, so he was probably completely immune to their vibes).

Aphrodite giving the accursed necklace to her daughter had just been a stroke of luck; Harmonia, a third generation goddess with a mortal husband and children, had been a lot more vulnerable to the baleful curse of her wedding gift.

Deep down, the smith had felt sorry for his niece, even though under his friendly facade he had always loathed her for being spawned under such circumstances. Still there had been no denying, that she had been sweet and innocent and hadn't deserved to suffer.

Yet, his pity had been drowned out by the grim satisfaction of seeing her parents heartbroken over their daughter's misfortune and subsequent death.

Maybe one day he would regret, what he had done, but that day was yet to come. For now his heart was flint.

As Athena followed Aglaia through the smithery, the Kharis seemed to be far more sober than usual.

“Approach him with care”, she warned the wisdom goddess, “He's in a really bad mood today.”

“I can imagine”, the taller woman muttered. “Don't worry. I can handle this, I know what to do.”

Aglaia nodded in acknowledgement, but whispered: “Alright. Just don't say _their_ names. And don't mention _the incident_.”

She bowed courteously and saw herself out.

Athena took a deep breath, before going deeper into the workshop.

Don't say their names … that would be impossible, because she was here on their behalf.

“ _Hey, Athena. I know you and I hate each other, but can you do me a favour …?”_

Once Ares had told her, she hadn't been able to refuse.

The blue-eyed goddess needed to look for a while, until she spied Hephaistos hunched over a desk, doing precision work. His face was stone and he was currently burning brightly, not bothering to keep his flames inside his body.

In a really bad mood, Aglaia had said – what an understatement! If the normally composed smith was on fire, that could only mean that he was on the verge of exploding!

It was only when his hands were free, that Athena knocked on the door frame to make herself known.

He turned his head.

Holy Khaos, if looks could kill even gods, she would have dropped dead on the spot!

“Your shield isn't done yet!”, he snapped at her and sparks fell out of his hair.

She swallowed her agitation and replied: “I'm not here because of that. I'm here, because someone asked me to give you a letter and didn't trust Hermes to do it.”

Hephaistos stared at her and his flames died down.

After muttering an apology for his rudeness, he pushed his wheelchair around the desk and offered her a stool.

“Do you want some nectar?”

“No, thank you. As I said, I'm only here because of the letter.”

The smith was obviously still extremely pissed off, but he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before speaking.

“Athena, if this is a letter from Ares, give it back to him and tell him to shove it up his-”

“Listen to me!”, she interrupted him. “I didn't read this, but he came to me, even though he hates me, and asked me for help. So this _has_ to be important!”

“… Fine.”

“When he gave me this, he mentioned another letter he sent you before.”

Hephaistos scowled and confirmed, that he had indeed received a letter – more than a millennium after _the incident_.

Athena lifted an eyebrow. “You didn't read it, did you? He suspected it too. Said, that this time he wants you to read it in my presence. I hate to admit it, but sometimes he _does_ use the single-digit number of braincells he has.”

The smith snorted at the jab, but told her to wait here, rolled out of the room and came back with another, seemingly far older scroll of papyrus.

“You are both right, I didn't read it”, he admitted. “But for some reason I couldn't bring myself to burn it either.” A sigh. “After all, no one has ever gone through remotely as much trouble as to write me a letter.”

“Maybe you want to read that one first”, she proposed.

Hephaistos scowled down at the scroll in his lap. But after unrolling it, he blinked.

“Huh. The prick sure has clean handwriting.”

Oh. That really was unexpected. However, it didn't matter right now.

“What are you waiting for?”, Athena urged.

He puffed his cheeks. “I still don't see a point in reading it. It's probably something really offensive about me stealing his girl or some shit.”

She chuckled. Yes, that sounded like something Ares would have written after _the incident_.

“Well, can he make you any angrier than you already are at him?”

“I guess not.”

“Then read it anyway. And if it pisses you off, burn it. But at least you'll have read it.”

The blacksmith rolled his eyes, but gave in. “Alright.”

Clearing his throat, he began to read:

“ _Dear little brother,_

_since that golden net incident, you have never given me the chance to tell you, how I feel. And because you won't listen to me, I'm sending you this letter. I beg you, read all of it. When you've finished, you can burn it, if you want, just … hear me out …”_

Athena looked over his shoulders, as he read it to her.

She was actually impressed.

Never ever would she have pinned Ares to write something even remotely as deep.

If she hadn't known better, she would have thought it was Aphrodite's hand – but it obviously wasn't; her writing was cursive and ornate, as opposed to Ares' clean, but plain hand.

Except that what he had written was so genuine and candid … alright, it was definitely Ares.

Hephaistos read everything, but his voice grew shakier with every paragraph.

By the end, he was full-on crying.

“Fucking arsehole!”, he choked and burned the letter in his hands, “First he gives me a lesson about love, rubs his relationship with Aphrodite in my face and then he tells me, that he loves me?! Of all the things he could have written, this …”

Gently Athena stroked his back, as he sobbed into his hands.

It took him a while to compose himself.

The goddess of wisdom had left, after reading the second letter to him, as he had asked.

Hephaistos just needed some time alone.

He … he didn't know how to deal with this.

Everything was way too much and too confusing and he needed distance.

The other gods could wait for their stuff. Or they could just ask his assistants to finish the crap.

He would go on a holiday trip.

Far away from Olympos.

Preferably even away from Hellas.

Sicilia?

That was the place.

He hadn't seen Vulcanus in a while.

“… And that's basically, what happened.”

“Hm …”

Vulcanus peeked at his Greek colleague from behind his cup.

“Let me check, if I got this right”, he spoke, “You avenged yourself on the adulterers by placing a curse on their innocent daughter. A girl, who never did anything to you aside from that one flaw she can't help – that she was conceived through adultery – which, as I just said, really isn't her fault, who was pretty much as pure as the rays of the sun above”, the Italian god commented. “Well, I'm not going to question your motives. But do tell me: are you proud of yourself and of what you have done to Harmonia?”

Hephaistos didn't answer immediately. He was just stubbornly staring into the fire.

Alone, Vulcanus already knew the answer, long before the older god spoke.

They didn't meet often, but knew each other oddly well – as if they were brothers.

Perhaps in a sense they were.

Finally Hephaistos admitted: “No, I'm not.”

The Italian god cleared his throat: “Y'know, I have found, that time can fix that kind of shit. Revenge isn't always needed. Besides, you already exposed and publicly embarrassed them and divorced Aphrodite, it was not necessary to get back at her. Why make a cruel and complicated revenge plan, when you can just … let it go? I know it's easy to say and hard to do, but it's true. Think about it; is she that important to you, that you cannot forgive their betrayal, even after thousands of years? Trust me. Revenge isn't always the right thing. It doesn't make you a good person in any way.”

The Greek god sighed in obvious frustration.

But his facial features gradually softened into a pensive expression.

Eventually his face became determined, he muttered a begrudging “Ugh, fine”, rolled his wheelchair around and bid his colleague goodbye.

“What will you do now?”, Vulcanus wanted to know, as he stepped aside to let his colleague out.

Hephaistos turned around and was (surprisingly) smiling.

“Travel to Illyria. I'm going to meet with an old friend.”

“Thank you for the ride, Helios”, Hephaistos thanked his driver.

The sun Titan laughed merrily: “Hey, anything for my best buddy! Besides, I understand what you're up to, man. You sort things out and if you need a ride back to Olympos, just call me up, 'kay?”

The blacksmith god smiled: “Sure.”

“Alright!”, the Titan exclaimed and jumped back onto his chariot, “I'll continue my trip across the sky, before your king gets the vapours.”

The younger deity could only giggle.

The Titan grinned, before spurring his horses and riding off.

With a fond smile Hephaistos looked after Helios. The gods could say about that guy what they wanted, but he was a really good and reliable friend.

But his smile faded immediately, as he turned to the temple that contained the petrified remains of his niece and her husband.

This would be incredibly hard and he wasn't sure, if he actually knew what to say.

But he wasn't a coward and he definitely was no quitter.

He wasn't sure, if Harmonia could hear him, but he definitely owed her an apology – even, if he had to give it to a rock, since her and Kadmos' remains had turned to stone through Zeus' will.

_That's my fault … it's all my fault …_

“Alright”, he murmured to himself. “Time to finally man up and face the shit I've done.”

He entered the building and to his relief found, that it was empty.

Good.

It would be Tartaros to explain to a mortal priest or visitor, what a tan, young-looking man with long black hair and a wheelchair (it wasn't like the mortals knew those yet) was doing inside a funerary temple with an offering of incense, cinnamon, holy water and a bouquet of white roses. Bringing flowers was silly; the goddess turned mortal was now dwelling in Elysion, where the flowers grew fairest, but she would have been happy either way, he knew.

_She was a real sweetheart … I have to give it to her parents, they raised her well._

He looked around the interior.

It was a plain, almost minimalistic temple and behind a simplistic altar, on an elevated pedestal stood a statue of two medium-sized Drakones³, entwined in eternal embrace. Thus the couple had passed on and thenceforth their petrified bodies had remained this way. It was both romantic and tragic.

He sighed: “Hello, Harmonia. It's been a while. The last time we saw each other was at your wedding, I believe?”

He set his offerings on the altar with some effort.

“I'm sorry I took so long. Well, for that and a lot of other things. This is kind of stupid, because I'm here talking to a rock, when I should be saying this to your face. But I can't, so this will have to do. I don't know, how much you knew. Or if you can hear me, for that matter. Still I owe you an explanation … and an apology.”

Suddenly he was startled by a gust of wind, but when he looked around, no one was there.

After looking around cautiously, he just assumed, that it had been the draft and turned back to the stone.

“Well, there really are no words to make up for what I have done to you to get back at your parents, but I will try anyway.”

He began with an explanation, then a confession, before attempting to apologise.

Eventually he said: “So … that's it. That's kinda how I ruined your entire family out of petty revenge. I know that a sorry won't cut it. But I'll try anyway. I'm sorry. I had no right to do what I did. Because of my grudge against your parents, I destroyed your every chance at happiness. Because of the circumstances you were conceived in, I hated you, even though you never did anything to warrant it. Back then I did it to make them suffer and didn't care about how you would handle all of this. Today I know, that I was in the wrong. I should have just let it go and instead I made an innocent woman suffer out of selfish spite. What I have done is unforgivable and I do not ask for your forgiveness, that I don't deserve. Still I want you to know, that I regret what I did. So I hope that you can hear this. If you hate me now, that's fine (you have all reason to), but if you can find it in your heart to believe me, that would be more than I could already ask for. Please believe me, when I say … I'm sorry. I deeply, truly am.”

Finishing his apology, he took a deep breath.

There. It had been done.

Suddenly he felt a lot lighter, even though he had been talking to a rock.

For a moment the temple was quiet.

Then a voice made him almost yelp.

“That was a beautiful apology. Would've been better, if you had said it to her face, though.”

Hephaistos turned his wheelchair around as quickly as he could.

“How long have you been here?”, he gasped.

Ares shrugged: “I saw Helios drop you off here, when I came, so I think it's safe to say: the entire time.”

The smith frowned; so that had been the gust of wind from earlier!

The war god shook his head and approached.

He too was carrying offerings in his hands and arms; a giant, quite colourful bouquet of exquisite flowers, a bottle of perfume, a peplos, incense and a bowl with fruit.

Ares set his rich offerings down on the altar, next to the one Hephaistos had put there earlier.

Then he crouched down next to the younger god's wheelchair with a sigh.

For a few minutes, they sat in awkward silence, before Hephaistos cleared his throat.

“Ares, maybe you should fold your wings away, before-”

“May they see 'em”, the older cut him off. “They already have before. They know the father of their late queen.”

Hephaistos could see the other's wings tense up and the fingers claw at the stone floor, before Ares composed himself.

“You have some nerve, showing your face here.”

“I know.”

“Was about fucking time though.”

“Yes, it was.”

“I've read your letters.”

“Have you?”, Ares muttered.

“Yes. In Athena's presence, like you wanted.”

“Good.”

“I've burned them thereupon.”

The war god's mouth quirked upward. “Figured you would.”

“Those letters were crap.”

“Sure, whatever you say. And still you cried, before you burned them. Daddy's Owl told me. If you really had thought they were crap, you wouldn't have shed a tear.”

Hephaistos couldn't help but be surprised, that the red-eyed god knew him so well, but he didn't voice it.

Apprehensively he watched his older brother.

Ares was grinning lopsidedly, but his red wings rustled and twitched in irritation, giving away that he wasn't remotely as casual or amused as he was pretending to be.

To be fair, neither was the younger.

“I still think that you're a prick, Ares.”

“I know. And you're right. But I'm gonna level with you, brother – you've been an arse too.”

Hephaistos smiled bitterly: “Yes, there's no denying I was.”

“Ya know, when Aphrodite and I first realised it … that thing with the necklace … we were really mad at you, both of us.”

“I don't blame you.”

“Good.”

Ares craned his neck to look his brother directly in the eyes.

“Why did you do this to Harmonia? How could you? Why to _her_? She … she …”

His toneless voice wavered and he quickly looked away again.

“It wasn't my intention at first”, the smith whispered. “The necklace was meant for her mother.”

Ares didn't respond. He didn't have to.

Hephaistos knew, what he would have said, if he'd had the words to say it. He also knew why he still wouldn't have said anything, even if he could have.

“I'm sorry”, he finally whispered.

Ironic, really; never would he have imagined, that he would apologise to Ares of all gods.

The red-eyed god didn't answer beyond a heavy sigh.

The blacksmith god didn't know how long they sat in silence hereafter.

But at some point Ares placed his left hand onto the armrest of his brother's wheelchair – cautiously, as if to give the other the option to just slap it away, if he didn't want it there.

Hephaistos' brown eyes widened.

That was a rather tentative and gentle gesture from the abrasive, warlike madman that was Ares.

Then again, who was he to complain?

With a tiny smile he took the hesitant hand and gave it a firm squeeze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Algea: the Greek Daimones (spirits) of pain, suffering and grief, bringers of weeping and tears, daughters of Eris, the goddess of strife.  
> 2) Pontos: the primordial personification of the sea, a son of Gaia.  
> 3) Drakones: serpentine dragons (mostly just enormous snakes)


	8. Captured and broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ares gets captured and tortured by the Aloiadai and the Olympians suddenly realise, that they *gasp* actually care!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning for mention of extreme torture and gore, plus mention of rape and child rape. Don't read further, if this is too much for you. Oh, and excessive use of the f-word.  
> Also, Eris speaking with a weird accent, because she does what she wants.

Ares had gone missing.

At first no one had really minded, it had been wonderfully quiet without that noisy maniac.

In fact, had it not been for the circumstances, they would have used this opportunity to relax, but there was no reason for relaxation.

Olympos was besieged by two adolescent Gigantes, the Aloiadai. They were attempting to pile up a mountain, so they could take over the home of the gods. They threatened the Olympians and on top of that were harassing Hera and Artemis.

Ares had had enough of their nonsense and had gone to face them – despite having a bad cough, that idiot. But he still hadn't returned.

Which was bad, because now they had a gap in their defence, should the twins succeed in reaching up to the heavens.

And it was slowly, but surely getting _too_ quiet.

Hermes and Apollon had admitted to missing their older half-brother's constant teasing.

Athena was growing more and more tense. She could have kicked herself for not knowing how badly she needed the annoying idiot. She missed the constant fighting. With Ares things never got boring, he was her adversary, someone to let steam off with. The blue-eyed goddess was getting seriously bored, restless and (not that she would ever admit it) worried for her half-brother.

Where was he?

Hephaistos suggested that something must have happened to him, because why would he go off, fight two Gigantes and then stay away for a year, not letting his family hear anything from him?

Aphrodite had turned into a nervous wreck and was constantly fearing the worst, which made her spiral into panic attacks every thirty minutes.

Eileithyia and Hebe were concerned too.

Even Zeus and Hera seemed to be worried.

The King of the Gods was constantly wandering to and fro in his office and the Queen was ruffling her hair in stress.

Since she and Artemis both were being harassed by those overgrown brats, they even had put aside their quarrels and could sometimes be seen sitting together at Hestia's hearth, talking and bonding over the ridiculousness of the entire situation.

To everyone's surprise Hera also turned out to be a stress baker.

So it came, that one evening the Olympians sat together in the assembly hall in a low mood, munching cake.

Finally Dionysos spoke up: “Who wants to get shitfaced?”

But before anyone could take the invitation, Zeus shook his head. “This is no time to get drunk”, he chided the youngest god and poor Dionysos lowered his head in shame. “If my son returns home in good health, that will be a reason to celebrate.”

Athena really didn't like the way her father specified “ _if_ he returns _in good health_ ”.

Zeus knew the future; Apollon had got that from him.

And whatever Zeus was seeing, it had to be bad.

Even though he appeared calm on the outside, the weather gave away, that he wasn't; his anxiety had manifested in a never-ending rainstorm, that had flooded all the lower areas of Olympos (the gods couldn't leave their palaces to walk on the pavements, without being knee-deep in the water).

After Zeus' statement, no one spoke another word.

Aside from the heavy rain and howling wind, there was just icy silence.

Finally, it was Apollon, who couldn't take it anymore.

“Father, how much longer do you want us to sit here?!”, he snapped, “It's been more than a year already and he's still missing! We have to do something! Ares may be a stupid jerk, but he is still one of us! They must have captured and imprisoned him somewhere, that's the only logical explanation for why he is still gone! What if those gigantic brats overwhelmed him and are torturing him in their evil lair?! What if they chained him up and are now doing unspeakable-”

“SHUT UP!!!”, Aphrodite shrieked all of the sudden and burst into distressed sobbing.

Hera went to pat her shoulder comfortingly and then proceeded to glare at her step-son.

“Way to elevate everyone's morals, Latôios¹! If you were as tactful as-”

“Enough!”, Zeus barked and everyone fell silent. “We will find him and until then-”

Right in that moment Iris burst in and announced a visitor.

Athena blinked in confusion.

Who could possibly have shown up here, on Olympos, in _this_ weather?!

Eriboia was at loss as to what the Erebos that abnormally large bronze jar was doing in their cellar, why her step-sons wouldn't let her near it and what the heck they were doing in the cellar so often to begin with, when they weren't piling mountains on top of each other.

The overgrown youths were constantly bugged with these questions: “What is that ugly, huge bronze jar doing downstairs?”, “Why won't you let me go near that thing?” and “What the Hades are you two doing so much down there?”

After months of prying, it was Ephialtes who finally caved: “Alright, alright, shut up, I'll tell you! We caught the son of Zeus!”

“Which one?”, Eriboia deadpanned, “Zeus must have fathered at least ten percent of the population of Hellas. Be more specific.”

“Well, Ares! The god of war! You know, the only _legitimate_ son?”

_Oh no._

“Anyway, we caught him and wanted to use him as hostage, but Zeus hasn't reacted so far, and now that damn war god won't stop struggling, screaming and trying to free himself. But he can scream and struggle all he wants, because we bound him with extra strong chains! They're magical, you see, they grow tighter every time the captive moves. If we keep that loser down there long enough, they'll crush him! And until then he's a fun toy to play with, when we're frustrated or bored!”

_Holy goat!_

“Ha! It's like he wanted to be played with! He seriously took on us both and thought he could beat us all on his own! Now no one can bring us down! Soon we will conquer Olympos and all the gods and then-”

A piercing scream came from the cellar, cutting Ephialtes' boasting off.

As they looked into the room, they could see the ugly giant jar was quaking.

Eriboia was just a normal human – maybe that was why she felt the uncanny vibes coming from the jar so intensely. And it would have put her off, but the screams of agony appealed to her conscience way too much.

The teenage giant only smirked, before turning back to his step-mother. “Right then, we're off. Gotta pile up more mountains, so we can reach Olympos! Don't let him out, mother!”

With that he was gone.

Now Eriboia was entirely different in character from her step-sons, nor did she share their way of thinking. She had nothing against the gods and definitely didn't condone hubris – that and the way Ephialtes had just called the god of war a _toy_ was beyond creepy.

Gingerly she approached the jar and pressed her ear against the bronze.

Now that she was close enough, she could hear the war god's faint voice whimper in agony.

“Help …”, it rasped, “Help … please … let me out … let me out …”

Her heart twisted painfully and she really wanted to help. But she wasn't strong enough to topple over that huge metal jar and maybe it would have hurt the captive too. So she knocked against the jar to show him, that she had heard.

“Hey”, she spoke, “Don't worry, I don't want to hurt you. I'm a mortal human, who wants to help. I'm not strong enough to get you out of there, but I will get help as soon as I can, okay?”

For a moment, there was silence.

Then a strained voice answered: “Thank you … please hurry … _please_.”

She frowned; it sounded so fragile, broken and weak.

 _Can the Deathless Ones die after all?_ , she wondered.

There was no time for long pondering, though.

She disguised herself and took off to Olympos to tell Zeus, where his son was.

Alone, there was a problem: how would she, a mortal, ever reach the Heavens?

Ares had never been so glad to hear a mortal's voice.

That woman – he just assumed it was one, judging by the voice – was his only hope.

The chains were cutting deep into his flesh and many of his bones had already broken under the pressure. He sank onto the side. The movement caused the chains to tighten even more, which caused him to cry out in mortal agony.

Ares was dying and he knew it; not only was he being crushed, he was also starving, dehydrating … and the Aloiadai had inflicted the worst kinds of torture upon him. He couldn't breathe. If someone didn't get him out of here soon, he would perish.

As much as he had always wanted to believe, that his immortality was absolute and that nothing could truly destroy him, he knew that Ephialtes was right. It _would_ happen, if-

“Ares?”

The oh-so-familiar voice of the Messenger of the Gods nearly made him cry, but he had no tears left.

“Ares! Ares, where are you? Answer!”

He could only cough weakly.

Looking up, he saw Hermes' face come into view and peek into the jar.

“Oh, finally, I found y-HOLY FUCKING SHIT, IS THAT YOU???”

Ares let out a laboured chuckle: “Took you long enough, squirt.”

“Holy shit, what the Tartaros, what the fuck-”

“Just get me outta here!”, the war god croaked, “But careful, these chains are-”

The rest of the sentence died in the coughing of Ikhor.

Hermes shook his head and pulled his half-brother out of the accursed jar as carefully as possible. Then he picked him up bridal style and carried him back to Olympos as fast as his winged sandals could carry him.

He was flying at the speed of the wind, but the flight still seemed endless. Especially when the Messenger noticed, that Ares was starting to pass out.

_If he passes out, he might never wake up!_

“Ares, you have to stay awake! Do you hear me?!”

“Dunn' think I can – ngh!”

The war god grunted in pain and spewed more Ikhor, as his chains grew even tighter.

Hermes felt sick at the sight, but he had to keep him awake.

“You can do it, man! We're almost there! Here, we just passed through the gates!”

“… What's with the weather?”

The messenger cringed. “It's been shitty ever since you disappeared. Dad has anxiety.”

Ares grinned weakly. “Hey, the wind 'n' rain … feel good … nice 'n' cool …”

_Oh no, he's falling asleep!_

“Hey, Ares, look! There's Hephaistos' forge! Remember _the incident_?”

The response was a weak glare.

“Okay, sorry, sorry! Remember the Gigantomakhia? We all kicked arse and you killed Ekhidnades and Mimas?”

“U-huh.”

“And how father clapped your shoulder and said 'Well done, son'?”

A rattling laugh: “How could I … forget? Best day of … my shitty life …”

The older god's ribs and sternum broke with a nasty crack and he spat more Ikhor.

Hermes cringed at the sight more disturbing than anything he had ever encountered in Hades' domain.

“Okay, Ares, hang in there! There is Athena's olive garden! And there are Hera's apple trees and pomegranates!”

It didn't help; the other's red eyes were closing.

“Hey, Ares, don't pass out! You've gotta stay awake! Think of your family! Your kids!”

Ares smiled faintly. “My kids …”

“Yes, yes! They need you!”

“M-hm. Hey … how long was I …?”

“Thirteen months. Today it's the 3rd day of the Gamelion²”, Hermes supplied.

Ares groaned in despair: “I missed everyone's birthdays!”

Hermes was surprised, but also felt compelled to make the older feel better.

“When I visited Harmonia in Elysion last year, I wished her a happy birthday from you.”

“Good. Can you do it … tomorrow night too? Today … it's her birthday. And … bring her roses … I promised her … flowers from here …”

Hermes smiled: “Doing it still today.”

Ares forced a smile. “Thank you …” And promptly passed out in his half-brother's arms.

“No problem and-ARES?! OH NO, BY KHAOS, PLEASE, NO! WAKE UP! YOU HAVE TO WAKE UP! ASKLEPIOS! APOLLON! ATHENA! HEPHAISTOS! FATHER! ANYONE! HEEEELP!!!”

The chains were even darker than the gods had feared at first.

They couldn't even be removed normally, someone needed to neutralise the dark magic. Only one goddess was capable of this and thus Zeus sent for Night-Wandering Hekatê. And indeed, with powerful ancient spells the ever-shifting Titanis made the chains release their hold on their captive.

Now the healing deities could finally take the war god to the sickbay, where he was laid into the Pool of Paiôn³. Apollon himself, Asklepios and his wife and daughters had all come together and poured their entire healing powers into the water non-stop for three days.

But his injuries (both external and internal) were so grave, that he would be in the Healing Coma for at least another year.

Later that night, the Olympians held council and listened to the reports of the divine doctors and of Hekatê.

“The number and kinds of injuries we found on him is truly disturbing”, Asklepios stated, “His inner organs all crushed, not a single bone unbroken and … and …”

He hesitated.

“Go on”, Zeus urged.

Only, the son of Apollon was obviously unsure of how to put into words, what he really wanted to say – it took him a while to find a way to put it into words.

“Well, my wise king, it seems like the Aloiadai … uhm, used him to elevate their boredom.”

Zeus tensed up and the air suddenly became extremely heavy and charged.

“ _What?_ ”, he asked slowly.

Asklepios swallowed, before he continued: “Apart from the wounds and bruises inflicted by the chains, we also found scratch marks and hand imprints all over his body and … injuries between the _thighs_.”

The meaning of that was obvious.

For a moment everything was quiet … _too_ quiet.

Then, all at once, the wrath of Zeus was unleashed in a thunderstorm of mythological proportions.

Deep down in the underworld, a loud rumble was heard and the inhabitants trembled in fear.

Persephone looked up from her work. “What the here is going on up there?”

Hades shrugged: “Probably your father throwing a hissy fit or something.”

Finally Zeus calmed down enough to dial it back with the lightning and thunder and cleared his throat: “Ahem. My apologies. What were you saying?”

Poor Asklepios (who wasn't remotely as used to Zeus' temper tantrums as everyone else) stuttered the rest of his report: “Uh-uhm … h-his injuries a-are nothing my ch-children and I c-can't fix, b-b-but his soul … he-he'll be traumatised.”

Zeus took a deep breath, before he could unleash another European hurricane, and nodded. “Thank you, grandson. You may go.”

Asklepios left the hall as quickly as was appropriate, obviously relieved to no longer have to be in the enraged sky god's presence.

Zeus sighed and rubbed the back of his head.

Then he turned to Hekatê and asked for her report (ignoring the eyes floating in the air around her head and upper body as far as possible).

“I have wandered the earth ever since I could walk”, she lisped. “But never have I seen anything so sinister. More so I'm puzzled, that the Aloiadai even got their hands on these. If you would come closer, so I can show you what I mean?”

The Olympians all came closer and surrounded Zeus and Hekatê.

She placed her hands onto the metal and eldritch symbols began to show.

“As you can see, ancient and powerful magic has been woven into them. This”, she pointed at a certain line of symbols, “Is a tightening spell. It detects the slightest movement and causes the chains to constrict in response. Of course Ares would have tried to free himself and inadvertently made it worse.”

She pointed at another row of symbols.

“This is the curse of mortality. Every divine being's essence is encompassed by a thick shell and that's our divinity. But these chains infiltrate the protective shell and pump the impurity of mortality into your very essence.”

Hera gasped: “Does that mean my son is now a mortal?”

“No. Fortunately, Hermes found him just in time. But one more day and it would have been too late. You have seen how faint his divine aura was.”

The Titanis sighed and went on: “This spell here is the worst. It drains the life out of the victim and transfers its life force onto the person holding power over the chains. In other words, while Ares was their prisoner, the Aloiadai grew stronger at his expense. They fed off his very life force, like parasites. Although I don't think they were aware of it, considering their age.”

Now it was Athena, who cried out: “So, even if he hadn't succumbed to his physical injuries, he would have wasted away, until finally all of him was drained, leaving him a lifeless husk?!”

“Yes.”

“But this is awful! This is _evil_! How- they're only _Kouroi⁴_!

“Indeed”, the Titanis agreed. “But watch, it gets worse – step back, everyone!”

They did and Hekatê sang another ancient incantation. The eerie glow of the shackles intensified, grew darker and darker. Then Hekatê suddenly leapt back and not a moment too soon; a substance began to ooze out of the metal like wafts of black mist.

There was a collective gasp and several of the attenders fainted.

Poseidon's and Zeus' faces turned ashen and their black eyes widened with horror.

“No!”, Zeus whispered, “It can't be … this is _impossible_!”

“But … but _how_???”, Poseidon screamed, “We sealed them away, they shouldn't have-”

“Father, uncle”, Athena spoke up, “I beg you, do not withhold this from us – _what_ is this?”

Zeus squeezed his eyes shut and took a breath to compose himself.

Finally, he revealed, that those were the chains that once bound the Elder Kyklopes and the Hekatonkheires⁵, who were first imprisoned by their father Ouranos and then by Kronos.

“They were forged from the pure darkness of Erebos and the baleful essence of Tartaros. For the Titanes, we used different bonds, as we didn't want to use the terrible old ones. My siblings and I collectively decided, that something so appalling must never be used again. So we hid the chains, where no one would ever find them – or so we thought.”

He turned back to Hekatê. To his dismay, she was weeping from her floating eyes.

“Do forgive me”, she apologised. “The horror of this whole situation just breaks my heart.”

Zeus nodded. As king he couldn't weep, but the awful weather on Olympos spoke volumes.

“We all feel the same way. Anyhow, now that this has been done to my son and heir, I decree, that we must make sure something like this can never happen again. Sealing these chains away obviously wasn't enough. Hekatê, can you destroy them?”

“No, I'm afraid that's not within my power. I could break them, but destroying them completely would require the power of one of the Protogenoi.”

The Olympians exchanged uncomfortable glances.

The Protogenoi. The Firstborn Ones.

Which of them could they summon?

Athena addressed the problem: “We have to make a choice. On one hand it would be wise to call upon Nyx, Erebos and/or Tartaros, as their essence is the main component of these chains. On the other, it would make sense to summon the Protogenos, who made them.”

“That was my father.”

Everyone stared at Aphrodite, who had just woken up and was standing up.

“I was born from the essence – hold your tongue, Poseidon – of Ouranos, the Sky. He is the one who made them, as Zeus already said.”

“Can you summon him?”, Athena enquired.

“I can try”, Aphrodite replied, “I can speak to him, but I'm not sure, if he will actually help us.”

“Do try”, Zeus requested. “You are the most beautiful of his children. If anyone can convince him to destroy these disgusting things, it's you.”

Aphrodite consented, but declared crossly: “Mind you, everyone: I'm only doing this for Ares! This is my father's _fucking_ fault! These _fucking_ chains did this to my love and I will not _fucking_ rest, before they've been _fucking_ obliterated!!!”

Then she stomped out into the rain.

It seemed like an eternity, until Athena noticed, that her father was growing uneasy.

“He's coming”, he informed everyone. “I can sense a supernatural shift in the atmosphere.”

And sure enough, Aphrodite returned with a majestic looking man of lofty stature, clad in a long robe covering his entire body.

His skin was the night sky, his hair and coat resembled the thunderclouds outside (in fact, his hair seemed to be _composed_ of the clouds outside). He radiated the sheer primordial power and very essence of the holy heavens.

_So this is Ouranos?_

There was something about him, that made Athena's very flesh crawl. His face was void of all emotion, his silvery eyes were cold.

 _Psychopath_ , was the first word that came to her mind.

“Welcome to my home, venerated forefather”, Zeus greeted the old god with ostensible calm.

“Thank you”, the Sky replied coolly. “Now, why have you dared to summon me? My daughter here told me, that it is important, otherwise I would not have come.”

“Yes, indeed it is. I reckon you remember these?”

He pointed at the broken shackles, still lying on the floor and oozing darkness and bale.

The Sky stepped closer to examine them. “Ah, yes. It was I who made them.”

“We know that. Now, if you could-”

“Why did you free the Kyklopes and the Hekatonkheires?”, Ouranos demanded to know. “I sent them to Tartaros for a reason.”

Suddenly Athena felt a surge of rage. And she wasn't the only one.

Zeus' coal black eyes grew hard. “You imprisoned your children, because they weren't graceful and fair-faced, like the Titanes. My siblings and I liberated our uncles, because they were talented and useful and never hurt anyone, unless we asked them to.”

His passive-aggressive outrage caused more lightning and thunder outside the hall and in Ouranos' cloudy hair. As response it waved in what was probably irritation.

“You're the son of Kronos and Rheia indeed”, Ouranos remarked scathingly.

Athena intervened: “Do forgive us, Dome of Heaven. Surely you must know, what these chains have done to a god, who despite all differences is one of us. So you need to understand, that we're quite … _on edge_.”

_Understatement of the millennium, but whatever._

Ouranos turned and looked the bright-eyed goddess up and down.

“You're the granddaughter of Okeanos, the only honourable one of my sons. Yes, I see him and your mother in you. Well then, for your sake and that of my daughter Aphrodite, I will forget this argument ever happened.”

“Thank you, honoured forefather”, Athena said politely. “Anyway, us gods are in agreement, that such dangerous means of confinement should never be used again. We couldn't possibly imagine anyone more capable of preventing another such tragedy, than you.”

“I understand”, the Sky nodded, “You want them to be destroyed completely. Hmm …”

He picked the adamantine chains of darkness up effortlessly, but frowned, before continuing: “Something has been done to them, that wasn't my work. I remember each component that I used to create these. The parasite spell and the mortality spell were not among them. These two must have been added by the Titanes, I can't think of another explanation. The only other Primordials, who _could_ have done this, _wouldn't_ have.”

Ouranos grimaced. “I agree with you, these things are really disgusting. Something so hideous must not be allowed to exist.”

His hands began to glow as bright as the sun, countering the dark essence of the chains … until eventually the chains just faded into thin air. He informed the gods, that whatever of this evil had remained would be erased by the holy essence of Great Khaos itself, then proceeded to strut out of the palace to become one with the Dome Above again.

A few moments later Zeus finally groaned: “Oh thank the Moirai, he and the grisly chains are _finally_ gone!”

Upon hearing this, the other gods returned to their seats and allowed themselves a moment to let the tension seep out of them.

For the first time that night the (still heavy) rain and howling wind actually felt … relaxing.

After an uncertain amount of time, Hekatê asked: “May I go home?”

Her vibrant violet hair had greyed and she had rapidly aged throughout the night; she had arrived a little girl and was now a crone. A sign, that it was almost dawn.

Zeus allowed her to go and thanked her.

She smiled: “Don't mention it. I like to help.”

With that, Hekatê took her twin torches back from Hestia, said goodbye and vanished into the dead of night.

Once she was gone, Apollon sighed and rubbed his temples. “Shit … is it really morning already? Man, I haven't slept in days, putting my healing energy into the Akesian Sleep⁶ has completely drained me and there is still so much to do! This will be a long day …”

“Don't worry”, Hera muttered, “I'll make a few calls for today, so you should have less duties to attend to. Consider this a sign of gratitude for helping my eldest son.”

“Much appreciated”, the younger god thanked her. “And you're welcome.”

Zeus stood up. “I think we all need sleep. It will do no good to any of us to have no rest.”

“Wait, father! We're not done yet!”, Athena claimed and everyone sunk back into their seats with a groan.

The King of the Gods frowned. “What's the matter, my daughter? What did we forget?”

“Getting rid of the chains was only one part of the problem”, she pointed out, “We still need to take care of the other part: the Aloiadai, who did this to Ares.”

“Yes, but what shall we do? What if another of us goes to face them and is captured as well? You've seen, what they've done to Ares. What if they have more of those chains?”, Hephaistos worried.

“I don't think they do”, Athena replied, “I don't think they even knew _what_ the chains were. Anyway, we need to dispose of them, before they can kill us all and force Hera and Artemis to-”

“I say we vaporise them!”, Aphrodite hissed, “Reduce them to ashes, like my father did with the chains!”

“And how exactly do you plan to do that?”, Athena questioned. “Remember how Ares' immense power didn't impress them at all? We need to-”

“I DON'T _FUCKING_ CARE!!!”, the goddess of love shrieked and began to glow red with rage, “I DO NOT _FUCKING_ CARE, PALLAS ATHENA!!! LOSING MY DAUGHTER WAS BAD ENOUGH, NOW I NEARLY _FUCKING_ LOST MY LOVE AND THE FATHER OF MY DIVINE CHILDREN! WHAT DO YOU _FUCKING_ EXPECT ME TO DO??? SIT IDLY BY, AS THEY GET AWAY WITH ALMOST _FUCKING_ TORTURING HIM TO DEATH?! I DO NOT _FUCKING_ FORGIVE AND FORGET! EVERY FIBRE OF MY BEING CRIES OUT FOR REVENGE! I WANT THEM TO _FUCKING_ SUFFER, LIKE THEY MADE ARES SUFFER, IF IT'S THE LAST _FUCKING_ THING I DO!”

“SHUT THE TARTAROS UP!!!”, Athena roared, losing her last shred of composure. “WHAT MAKES YOU BELIEVE WE'LL LET THEM GET AWAY WITH IT?! WE ALL! WANT! REVENGE! THEY HARASSED HERA, EVEN THOUGH SHE IS OUR QUEEN AND ARTEMIS, EVEN THOUGH SHE'S A VIRGIN GODDESS LIKE ME! WE ALL WANT THEM TO SUFFER AND BY STYX, THEY WILL!!!”

“Ahem … excuse me, ladies?”

The furious goddesses blinked and turned to Zeus, who was looking slightly unsettled.

He sighed: “Calm down, both of you. You're scaring everyone.” And gestured towards the table with his thumb.

Athena and Aphrodite sweatdropped, as they spied the other Olympians hiding under it, huddling together, whimpering and shivering in fear. The two disputants stuttered an awkward apology and helped their fellow Olympians to come out.

Hera, first to recover, addressed Aphrodite: “Next time you get angry, please tone it down with the F-word. It's unbecoming for a member of the Dodekatheoi⁷.”

“I'm sorry for that”, the older goddess apologised, “I don't know what came over me.”

“Anyway”, Athena groaned, “We need a plan. Raw violence didn't help Ares and it won't help us. We have to be more cunning than this. Besides, his state is partly _our_ fault, as we failed to rescue him for more than a year. We're all upset and out for blood, so does anyone beside myself have an idea how to get rid of them?”

Artemis raised her hand. “I do. And I'm confident, that it'll work. It involves you and me and the help of discord-sowing Eris.”

Ares remained in the Akesian Sleep for longer than Asklepios had predicted.

During that time, everyone who cared came to check on the unconscious god.

Athena was surprised by how many people that were, and even more surprised that she was among them.

One day she saw Hera crouched against the glass of the healing tank, weeping bitterly.

“My son, my little boy, my champion, my little whirlwind …”

It had been many thousand years, since Athena had last heard Hera use those nicknames for her son. It reminded her that, deep down under all her cold and queenly exterior, Hera loved her children, even though she had the worst ways of showing it sometimes.

Sometime later Athena saw her father Zeus and Hera stand in front of the healing tank together. He was holding her in his arms and she was crying into his chest. It was a rare moment of harmony between the two and Athena couldn't help, but smile.

Of course Aphrodite came a lot too. Day after day she lingered by the tank and prayed to Khaos, that Ares would get better and back to his old self. But other than that, she never wept. Like Hera, she stayed strong for her children, which was quite admirable in Athena's eyes.

Ares' children too came every day.

One evening, Athena found the twins Phobos and Deimos snoozing against the glass, apparently they had fallen asleep waiting for their father to get better. Instead of waking them up, she had just carefully scooped them up and carried them back to Aphrodite's house. Their mother had smiled at the sight of Athena carrying two pre-teenage boys in her arms, but had allowed the younger goddess to help her tuck them in.

Hephaistos too came to check on his older brother.

The sight was painful.

Ares was floating in the Pool of Paiôn unconsciously, just skin and bones, paler than Hades and covered in wounds that were healing way too slowly.

“Dammit, Ares”, he grumbled, “What were you thinking? Taking on two Gigantes by yourself! You fucking idiot.”

He pushed his wheelchair next to the glass.

“You know, if someone had told me fifty years ago, that one day I would be visiting you in sickbay, I would've called them mad. I'm just glad that you and I got to reconcile, before this shit happened. One regret less I would've had, if you had actually died.”

He couldn't help but wonder, if the Akesian Sleep was dreamless or not. He hoped it was, because if not, Ares would certainly be trapped in unending nightmares about what he had gone through.

“You probably can't hear me, but … we're missing you. Hard to believe, huh? But it feels kinda too quiet and empty without you. Maybe you won't believe it, but we care about you, deep down, even though you're a prick.”

He chuckled bitterly: “I know exactly, what you would say now: 'If you care, then why did it take you over a year to find me?' Well, and you're right. I guess it took this crap for us to realise. Don't get me wrong, we still don't like you. And as soon as you recover, you'll probably still be a huge prick, albeit one with major issues and traumata. So that'll be a thing.”

With a last sigh, he turned his wheelchair to leave.

“Get well soon, okay?”

In a rare fit of generosity Zeus even allowed Ares' best friend Eris to visit, on the condition that she and her kin wouldn't wreak havoc.

Eris was sour about the condition, but agreed.

So she, her children and the Keres were uncharacteristically quiet, as Asklepios allowed them in one by one.

Eris was the last in line, letting her children and sisters go first.

They left Olympos right after making their sickbed visits, knowing better than to overstay their welcome.

But Eris lingered. She couldn't just leave a postcard and go, not with Ares.

It was almost nightfall, when Athena found the Mother of Woes still stand in front of the healing tank.

The abhorred daughter of Nyx looked oddly subdued. Her mane of tousled black and white hair and her black wings were drooping.

As Athena was about to make herself known, Eris spoke: “He was me charge, back when he was a wee kid.”

“I know. Hera told me, that you were his nurse first and then his guardian”, Athena answered softly.

“Did she also tell ya, _why_ I became his guardian later on?”

The younger goddess had to admit, that Hera had left that detail out.

“He an' the Horai were born still durin' the Titanomakhia. Everyone says it lasted ten years, but that's _Olympian Years_. An' despite all the commotion, Zeus still had time ta fall for and marry first yer mother, then Themis, then Hera, who is now his queen. Mortals an' younger gods think it 'appened later, but they're wrong.”

One Olympian Year was a mortal decade, Athena knew. So the war had actually lasted a hundred years? And why was Eris telling her this?

The personification of strife chuckled: “Neanderthals and mammoths an' such were still around. Ares loved playin' with 'em. Ye know, when I first met 'im, he was such a wee laddie, he didn't even reach up to me hip.”

That was hard to imagine; Ares was a quite tall man and had been lanky even when Athena had met him as a preteen. Eris was rather slight and dwarfish in comparison.

“He was, like, seven. I found it a bit weird, 'cuz I already had been his nurse before. Bu' when Hera told me the situation, of course I said aye.”

“Why did Hera make you his guardian?”, Athena finally asked.

The Daimona scowled: “She tol' me he'd been kidnapped by Kronos an' his cronies. They did sum' really sick shite ta him, if ye know what I mean.”

Suddenly the goddess of wisdom felt like she was going to puke.

Eris sighed: “'Course he was traumatised. An' ya know yer father's attitude about that shite.”

“Yes, I do”, Athena nodded soberly. Zeus was the biggest arsehole in that regard (and a lot of others, but that was irrelevant right now).

“Anyway, Hera could nae 'andle him, so she gave 'im back into me care. She knew he'd be safe wi' me. No one likes me, so they would nae come ta me lookin' fer him. Turned out he still remembered me; always had a really good memory, he had. Leapt right into me arms. I took care o' him fer three years, then Eileithyia was born an' he wanted to go back. I helped him cope wi' the trauma an' taught him how ta fly an' deal wi' the voice in his head.”

_So she knows about it too._

Eris finally turned to face Athena.

Her ghostly white face was grim and her gleaming red eyes were hard. Her spidery claws balled into fists.

“Listen ta me, Daughter o' Metis. Ares is like a son ta me. When ye asked me help to put down the Aloiadai, I asked fer nothin' in return. Tartaros, if I was as strong as ye, I would've ripped them apart with me bare hands.”

Athena nodded, knowing what Eris was going to ask of her.

“Ye know exactly what I want from ye. Don't evah go easier on 'im than ye did before and don't evah mention, what I just told ye. But promise me this: whether ye hate him or nae, whether ye two are allies or adversaries, I wan' ye to prevent this from e'er happenin' again. Keep an eye on 'im, lassie, aye?”

Athena nodded solemnly.

“By the waters that drip from the river Styx, you have my word.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Latôios: "Son of Leto", one of Apollon's epithets  
> 2) Gamelion: the first winter month in the Attic calendar (Januar/February), dedicated to Hera. At the end of this month, the Hieros Gamos was celebrated, in honour of Zeus' and Hera's marriage.  
> 3) Paiôn: "The Healer", an epithet of Apollon and Asklepios.  
> 4) Kouros: an early to mid teenage boy.  
> 5) Hekatonkheires: the "Hundred-Handed Ones", three giants with a hundred hands and fifty heads each. They were imprisoned in Tartaros by their father Ouranos after birth, much to the outrage of their mother Gaia. Kronos later freed them, but re-imprisoned them, after finding them no longer useful. Eventually they were freed permanently by Zeus and in return helped him defeat the Titanes.  
> 6) The Akesian Sleep, or sleep of healing, is my invention. It's a reference to the Stygian Sleep, but a healing sleep instead of a sleep of death.  
> 7) Dodekatheoi: Twelve Gods, another name for the twelve Olympians.


	9. Sickbed visits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ares recovers and his family comes to visit him.
> 
> A bit of fluff and comfort after the previous chapter and Zeus and Hera being good parents (for once).

Three years.

That was how long Ares remained in the Akesian Sleep.

Since he was unconscious, he was fed nectar and ambrosia through infusions.

He was so weak and his divine aura so diminished, that the healing deities had to pour additional healing essence into the water twice a week for over a year.

It wasn't uncommon, that one of them, mostly Apollon and Asklepios, collapsed from exhaustion.

Even after Ares' state had improved enough to end the regular supply of extra healing magic, Apollon was completely drained (Asklepios was more used to working hard as a healer, thus took it better).

“It'll take years for my healing energy to regenerate, but I'll be fine”, he assured his worried twin sister, although Artemis wasn't convinced at all.

“You'll definitely be more fine than Ares, when he wakes up and realises that he'll need decades of rehab to get back in shape”, Asklepios commented.

The three chuckled at the thought; the war god would be so pissed, but he'd have to suck it up.

One morning Asklepios' daughter Panakeia (All-Cure) came to check on the patient and found, that the Sleep was coming to an end: Ares would wake up soon.

She beamed and went to inform the other gods.

A few hours later he was out of the pool, had been salved and dressed into a hospital gown and was sleeping in the recovery room.

It was another two days, until he actually woke up; the Akesian Sleep always took a while to seep out and he had been in it for so long.

Apollon was the one, who witnessed his older half-brother waking up.

First it was a slight twitch of the eyelids. They slowly opened and soon Ares was blinking and glancing around disorientated.

Apollon waited until the other's red eyes focussed on him, before he spoke: “Good morning, Ares. Welcome back in the land of the living.”

“Where am I …?”

“You're in sickbay. In the recovery room to be exact. We pulled you out of the Akesian Sleep a few days ago.”

The war god seemed to need a bit to let it sink in.

“How long was I asleep?”, he finally breathed out, his voice too hoarse from disuse.

“Three years”, Apollon answered with a frown.

“Holy shit.”

“Yup.”

There were a few minutes of awkward silence, before Apollon finally asked: “How are you feeling now?”

“Kinda hungover.”

The younger god chuckled: “Yes, the Akesian Sleep does that to you.”

“An' really weak.”

“That's no wonder, after what you have gone through. Do you want something to drink or eat?”

“M-hm. Some water …”

Apollon handed him a jug of water from the night stand.

But when Ares took it, he frowned. “Why is it so heavy?”

The god of light hesitated, but answered: “That's probably your lack of muscle mass. You haven't been training in more than four years, so of course they deteriorated. Take a look at your hands and arms.”

Ares did and his face twisted with disgust at how frail and skinny he was.

“Lemme guess: I'll need years of rehab?”

“You'll need years of rehab.”

“Shit.”

Apollon tried to conceal his pity, knowing the other didn't want it. “Just drink your water. I'll let the others know, that you're awake.”

Ares was surprised at how many people came to visit him.

Just a few minutes after Apollon had left, the war god heard a commotion outside.

But then Apollon's voice called out: “Not so fast! He's just woken up, is still in a fragile state and he needs quiet! I will not let you all pester him at once! Only two at a time and that's final!”

 _I'll show you fragile!_ , Ares thought sourly, but he still was grateful. He really was in no condition to deal with everyone's chattering, questions … and their pity.

Then Apollon let the first pair in.

Aphrodite pushed Hephaistos' chair next to her lover's bed.

“Hey there”, the latter greeted his older brother. “How are you feeling?”

“Eh”, Ares muttered, “Kinda shitty. How 'bout you two?”

“We've been better”, Aphrodite told him. “We … we've been worried sick about you. Three years in a coma, damn the Fates!”

Ares took a closer look at her and saw that her eyes were a bit puffy. She was wearing make-up and something told him, that it was to conceal wrinkles of sorrow.

Hephaistos too looked a bit drained, and … was that a strand of grey hair?

“You have aged.”

“We know”, Hephaistos replied, “But that's nothing Hebe can't fix. We just didn't want to go to her, before you'd wake up.”

Ares grinned wryly: “Well, I'm sure you two look better than I do. Be real with me, guys; how nasty do I look?”

“You look horrid”, Aphrodite said honestly.

“Not much better than I did, when I got thrown off Olympos, I reckon”, Hephaistos commented.

Ares snorted: “Probably not. Anyway, how are the kids?”

“They're fine”, Aphrodite assured him. “But they miss you. And Eros is sad, because you couldn't be there on his birthday last week.”

Ares smiled fondly. “Tell the kids I love them, hm?”

Aphrodite reciprocated the smile. “I will. And they love you too. You know that, right?”

He chuckled hoarsely: “Sure do.”

_I'm a lucky bastard in that regard, I really am._

Suddenly Hephaistos bent forward and took his brother's hand.

“How is the voice in your head?”, he asked earnestly.

Ares closed his eyes and allowed himself to dive into his mind.

_Hey! Are you there?_

_No, Ares, I'm on a field trip to the Garden of the Hesperides!_ , came the sarcastic response.

The corner of his mouth twitched upward. “He's fine. Back to being an old bitch already.”

_Who are you calling an old bitch?!_

Aphrodite and Hephaistos chuckled in amusement and both squeezed his hands.

The rest of the sickbed visit was spent in a silent serenity, that less than a century earlier would have been impossible.

Hermes and Dionysos came together (unsurprisingly).

Their visit wasn't as tranquil, but a lot more entertaining in that these two had a lot of funny stories to share with their older brother.

Sadly Apollon soon kicked them out, saying that they were too loud.

Uncle Poseidon and aunt Demeter kept their visits short, but that was fine, because Ares wasn't particularly close to either.

“What time of the year is it anyway?”, he asked.

Demeter told him, that it was winter. “But Sephy and Hades called, they're coming for a visit too.”

“Neat”, the war god replied, “I kinda miss them.”

“They miss you too”, his aunt replied.

A moment of silence followed.

Then Poseidon spoke: “You know, we were really terrified, when we saw you in that state – and even more so, when we took a look at the chains.”

“How cursed were they?”, the war god inquired.

“Pure evil”, the sea god answered sombrely. “And your parents and us recognised them – the chains that once bound the Kyklopes and Hekatonkheires.”

Ares' eyes widened.

Of course he had heard of them; Zeus had told him all about the beginning of the Titanomakhia, when he was small – when they had still been half-way on speaking terms, of course. Zeus had mentioned the chains, but Ares had assumed it was to make the Titanes look more evil. So they had been _real_?!

“We don't know, how the Aloiadai got hold of them”, Poseidon continued, “But don't worry, the chains are no more. One of the Protogenoi obliterated them.”

Ares nodded. “Good.”

“The Aloiadai are gone too. Athena and Artemis took them out.”

“Even better.”

Artemis came alone.

“'Sup, psycho”, she greeted him.

Ares grinned. “'Sup, spoiled brat.”

She laughed, but quickly settled down and cleared her throat.

“Ahem, fun aside. How are you feeling, considering the circumstances?”

He shrugged weakly. “Could be better.”

“You nearly died.”

“I know.”

She refilled his jug with water and he took it gratefully.

After taking a few swigs, he set it down on the night table.

“I heard you and Daddy's Owl took them out?”

“Yes, but stop calling Athena Daddy's Owl.”

“Not in a million years.”

Artemis rolled her eyes. “You know what, forget about that. If it's any comfort to you, their death was slow and painful. And Eris helped us too, sowed strife and that junk.”

Ares grinned: “It _is_ a comfort. Thank you, _Basileis¹_.”

Her eyes widened, as he used that epithet.

He had never called her that before – normally, if he didn't call her by her name, he called her “ _Lêtôis_ ”² or, if he felt spiteful, “bastard child” to rub her illegitimate birth into her face.

For some reason she couldn't help but shrug and grin broadly.

“No problem, _Andreiphontês_ ³.”

When Athena came to see her half-brother, she had in mind, what she wanted to say.

But she was also aware, that Ares would probably ruin her plans, like the chaotic neutral he was. Artemis had already warned her, that he was back at calling her “Daddy's Owl” again, so she didn't expect any good conduct from the brutish god.

The sight caused her a light nausea.

Lying in bed, still skin and bones and deathly pale, he looked disgustingly frail.

But he seemed as perceptive as ever; he took one look at her face and his red eyes narrowed.

“Spare me your pity, Daddy's Owl”, he growled throatily.

“I would, but it's hard not to pity you; you look truly wretched”, she retorted coolly.

He snorted: “So I've been told. Then again, more than a year in captivity and torture and three in a coma don't exactly make one prettier.”

She took a deep breath to remain calm.

“I heard that I'm obliged to you”, he went on, “I can't claim that this pleases me.”

“I know.”

He sighed frustratedly: “Thanking Artemis was much easier. Then again, I don't hate her as much as I hate you.”

“The feeling is mutual. And frankly, I hope I will never be obliged to you. The last thing I want is for you to help me out of a precarious situation, when I can't do it myself for some reason.”

The response was a faltering, wheezing laugh – eerily similar to a death rattle.

She frowned: “You sound like you're dying from pneumonia. Are you sure your lungs are completely healed?”

“Well, with my luck, they might still be damaged. Or my voice and throat are just that hoarse from disuse. Anyway, Daddy's Owl-”

“Will you ever stop calling me that?!”

He grinned lopsidedly: “Sure, on the day you're not Zeus' ' _little Owl-Eye_ ' anymore.”

“… You know, a simple 'No' would have sufficed, you fucking arsehole.”

He mock-gasped: “What is this I hear? Is Zeus' favourite losing her composure?”

Refusing to dignify that, she turned away and spoke icily: “You better recover quickly, because I can't wait to kick your sorry behind again.”

Ares laughed again: “Actually, I might just train harder and one day I'll be better than-”

Suddenly he stopped short.

“Wait … wait, are you – Owl, are you _crying_?!”

“Bullshit”, she muttered and blinked furiously, before turning back to him.

Ares was sitting up – albeit with some effort – and looking completely bewildered.

“Hey, come on, don't cry. I'm sorry! I didn't think you were that upset about-”

“I'm not crying, you twit!”

“Yes, you are! Ya know, there are paper tissues on the night table-”

Ares gasped in surprise, as she grabbed his face. Her eyes were blazing with fury.

“What the Tartaros were you thinking?!”, she hissed, “Taking on two opponents twice your size, while you were still having that cough, you … you stupid fuck! You dumbass!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know”, he muttered, “But next time I'll be better prepared …”

“Shut the Tartaros up, you moron!”

She slapped him, only to hug him immediately afterwards.

Ares tensed up at first, but then she felt his hand gingerly pat her back.

“Shhhh. Hey, come on. I'll be fine. Give it a few years of rehab and we'll be back at each other's throat.”

Athena chuckled wryly: “Good. I have a lot of pent-up aggression.”

“Ditto! An' just you wait, Daddy's Owl! I'll train harder than before and one day I will surpass you!”

She snorted: “Keep dreaming, _Thêritas_ ⁴. I will always be the better one.”

“You keep telling yourself that, you arrogant owl!”, Ares cackled. “I _will_ get you off that crazy high pedestal of yours, you'll see!”

But all of the sudden he stopped laughing and his face grew suspicious. “Wait … look at me.”

One piercing gaze later, Ares' red eyes darkened with realisation.

“Eris has told you everything.”

Athena, knowing what he meant, nodded. “She has.”

“You haven't told anyone.”

“No. I promised her not to.”

“Good. Hey, lemme propose a deal to ya.”

Athena's interest was piqued. “Oh? What is it?”

“You'll continue keeping quiet about it. I won't tell anyone about your breakdown.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You're driving a hard bargain, brother.”

He smirked: “That I do.”

“… Alright. It's a deal.”

“And this better not change anything between us.”

“Absolutely not. You're the last person I'd give special treatment to, Ares.”

“Good. Let's shake on it.”

With faces like thunder they shook on it.

A few visits later, he was feeling incredibly tired and really just wanted to sleep.

So he couldn't help but groan, when Apollon told him that another couple was waiting.

“Yes, I know you're tired and I told them you need rest, but they insist and I can hardly turn them away”, the blond explained awkwardly.

“Never mind”, the war god muttered. “Let's get this over with.”

“Right”, Apollon nodded and went into the other room.

Ares was … actually caught by surprise, when his half-brother returned with his parents.

They sat down by his bedside.

Awkward silence settled in, none of the three knowing what to say.

Until eventually Ares said: “Hey.”

To his dismay Hera broke down and cried into his covered stomach.

Zeus sighed and stroked her back.

Hating to see his mother cry, Ares placed his hand onto hers.

“You idiot!”, Hera sobbed, “You complete and utter dumbass! Taking on two Gigantes by yourself, while you had a cold no less! What were you thinking?!”

“That's a good question”, Zeus agreed sternly, “Ares, what _were_ you thinking?”

Ares almost laughed, but held it in. “I was just sick of it. Those two bastards harassing everyone. And no one was doing anything.”

Then he frowned at them reproachfully. “Why did it take you so long to go and look for me? Would you even have done something, if the mortal who found me hadn't told you where I was? I know we're estranged, but this is bullshit.”

“You're doing us wrong”, Zeus replied, “It's true, it took us four months to realise, that you had been kidnapped – but we never stopped looking for you once we did.”

Ares lifted a brow. “Where did you think I was? Didn't you notice it was suddenly much quieter?”

Zeus chuckled: “It's never quiet here. But to answer your question, we thought you were in Thrace. It wasn't until Helios told us what had happened, that we learned the truth. But he couldn't say where you were, because the Aloiadai took you to some place the sunlight doesn't touch.”

“… Why would I go to Thrace in such a situation?”

Hera looked up and glared tearfully. “How should we know? It's not like you ever let us know, what really goes on inside your head!”

That was true. Ares always said, what was on his mind right now, but he never let anyone see, what was beneath. His bluntness and honesty were superficial.

The war god closed his eyes and heaved another sigh.

“I'm sorry”, he murmured. “I … I didn't mean to make you all worry. I didn't even think you actually care.”

“Well, you're wrong!”, Zeus and Hera snapped in unison – blinked, stared at each other and snickered like the old couple they were.

Ares was so happy about this rare moment of harmony between his parents, that he bit back his “Would've been nice to hear that as a kid”-comment.

Zeus cleared his throat and his face grew stern. “My son, promise us to never do this again. We very nearly lost you. Had you died, we never would have forgiven ourselves.”

After what he had been through, that was an easy promise to make.

“I promise and … can you say that again?”

The King of the Gods tilted his head. “'Had you died, we never would have forgiven ourselves'?”

“No, the first thing.”

Catching on, Zeus smiled.

“My son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Basileis: Princess, Royal (one of Artemis' epithets, since she's the daughter of Zeus - Ares is basically acknowledging, that his half-sister is not another one of his father's "love children")  
> 2) Lêtois: Daughter of Leto  
> 3) Andreiphontês: Men-Destroyer (one of Ares' epithets)  
> 4) Thêritas: Brutish/Beastly One


	10. The Trojan War, Pt. 01

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is basically the Iliad, but from the gods' POV. The gods meddling with human affairs, just as they please and Zeus being a puppet master for funsies, because he's Zeus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If my writing looks a bit differently at some parts, it's because I transcribed them from my German edition translation of the Iliad. Now, the Iliad is one monster of a book. So I'm cutting this chapter into several parts.  
> But I altered a few parts from the book, so if you discover inaccuracies, know that this is absolutely intentional.

“ _Mēnin áeide, theá, Peleïádeo Akhilēos_

_ouloménen, hé myrí' Akhaioīs álge étheken …”¹_

Athena still didn't know why not being picked as the fairest offended her so.

Maybe being thought of as beautiful was more important to her, than she had thought.

Anyhow, she could not deny, that she was slightly butthurt. Not as much as Hera, but she was still furious.

She had offered wisdom and victory, Hera had offered power.

And Paris had picked Aphrodite, because she had offered him the most beautiful woman in the world?! Really?

And to top it off, the woman in question was Helena of Sparta, married to none other than Menélaos, a volatile Mykenean², who had become king of Sparta through their marriage!

She also happened to be subject of a treaty her father had made with her suitors, before she had chosen Menélaos as her husband: that those rejected would come to the aid of the successful one, should he ever be in a troublesome situation.

And what a troubled situation it was, because Paris had freaking abducted Helena with Aphrodite's help!

Indeed, that guy's stupidity knew no bounds!

So here the mortal men were – rallying the entirety of Hellas, because of that damn treaty! Among them were great men like brave Diomedes, cunning Odysseus (a favourite of Athena's), Menélaos' brother Agamemnon and, last but not least, great Akhilleus and his soulmate Patroklos.

Also, that old bitch Agamemnon had managed to offend several gods _and_ mortals by … well, being his bitchy arsehole self …

Book One:

Apollon was minding his own business, when suddenly a prayer reached his ears.

A prayer full of anguish and despair, from a voice he knew: that of his priest Khrýses.

The god of oracles sighed and listened to what his priest had to say.

“ _Hear me, God of the Silver Bow, who stands over Khryse and holy Killa, who rules mightily over Ténedos,_ Smintheus³ _, if the roof I gave to your temple and my sacrifices ever pleased you, fulfil my prayer: let the_ Danaoi⁴ _pay for my tears with your arrows!”_

Apollon closed his eyes and used his gift of clairvoyance to get a full picture of what had happened.

But once he knew everything, he was seized by fury.

“Alright, motherfuckers!”, he growled, as he grabbed his bow and arrows and descended to earth, nearby their camp.

“Face the wrath of _Ioímios⁵_!”

Then he proceeded to rain down every single contagious disease he had at his disposal, for nine days straight.

Hera was raging and cursing Thetis and Akhilles, but mostly Thetis: the Nereid had persuaded Zeus to support the Trojans, because her son had asked her to.

Yep, Akhilles had requested that the Trojans should have the upper hand, lest Agamemnon finally would get his bitchy arse up and apologise to him properly.

Now the most powerful warrior of the entire army was brooding in his tent like … what was that mortal dish again? Oh yeah, a burrito. An overgrown, sulky blanket burrito. Who had completely withdrawn from battle with all of his troops, because screw Agamemnon.

Of course, no one liked Agamemnon, but this was ridiculous.

Book Two:

Meanwhile the Trojans, with their prince Hektor and Zeus' good will on their side, easily held their own and more than often threatened to gain decisive victories.

And to add insult to injury, her son Ares, who had promised to support her and Athena against the Trojans, had let Aphrodite get into his head and was now opposing them, like the turncoat he was!

Both Hera and Athena were furious at this development, but Zeus had not allowed them to interfere – _yet_.

“You know”, Athena grumbled, as the two goddesses looked down onto the battlefield, “If father let me, I would _love_ to drive a spear into Ares' gut!”

“You and me both”, Hera huffed. “Just where did I go wrong in his educati- not a word, Athena”, she warned, when the goddess of wisdom opened her mouth to reply.

“Anyway”, the Queen continued, “We have to obey Zeus' decree, especially now; as you can see, he's in a bad mood.” And pointed to the dark clouds above them.

“Also, Athena – I think you might want to go down there; they all seem to want to cut and run, there is a riot.”

Athena lost no time in dashing down there and urging her mortal friend Odysseus to interfere.

It wasn't long, until he and old Nestor had re-established order.

Book Three:

Some sacrifices and one breakfast later, the Achaeans and the Trojans were duking it out on the battlefield, when Athena and Hera spied Menélaos coming close to Paris.

Latter apparently saw the Spartan king first and promptly ran off like a total wuss.

This made Hera cackle hysterically: this boy had had no qualms risking both her and Athena's wrath, abducting a married woman out of her own home, offending the entirety of Hellas in the process, and now, that her actual husband Menélaos was showing up, he was running away like a wimp?! Pathetic!

Just a few hours later, Paris changed his mind, but not before he got smack-talked by his brother Hektor for being a huge wimp.

Of course Menélaos kicked his arse, but before he could finish him off and end the war for good, Aphrodite showed up! Whisking away her favourite like the bitch she was!

Hera fumed, but resisted the urge to beat her to a pulp.

“Don't worry”, Athena comforted her, “Sooner or later, she'll get her arse handed to her. I already have my plans – and the means to execute them.”

“As always”, the Queen remarked, with a hint of amusement and fondness.

Meanwhile Menélaos was still on the battlefield, outraged beyond mortal comprehension and roaring for Paris to “COME BACK AND DIE LIKE A MAN!!!”

Anyhow he had won, his brother Agamemnon decided and demanded that Helena be given back, financial reparations included.

Even most of the Trojans agreed, that Helena should be given back.

But Paris insisted, that she was his wife (except that she wasn't) and he wouldn't give her up.

Book Four:

The Olympians were having lunch in their dining hall, drinking nectar and toasting to each other, while Hebe was filling their cups.

But Zeus, ever the son of cunning Kronos, was plotting.

Finally he rose and spoke with sharpest tongue:

“Among the goddesses Menélaos only has two supporters: my queen Hera, who is the patron of Argos, and my daughter Athena, who holds her hand over Boiotia. Yet both just sit here, while Aphrodite is having a field day dwelling with Paris and doing as she pleases. Did she not just save him from certain death? Menélaos has won, yes. But now we need to hold counsel about how we will proceed now; shall we bring on more bloody war or shall we finally let gentle Eirene end the suffering? Granted your approval, it would mean, that Priamos' city will remain habitable and Menélaos finally can take his Helena back home to Sparta.”

Hera and Athena stuck their heads together, whispering and plotting more bale for the Trojans.

However, Athena was sensible enough to bite her tongue towards her father.

Hera on the other hand jumped up and ranted furiously: “Zeus, what the heck?! I have worked my arse off, just to put up a fleet against Ilios, and now this shall all have been in vain?! Do whatever you want, but don't expect any of us to approve of it!”

“Shut it!”, Zeus barked, “What is your problem? Why are you so bent on obliterating this beautiful city completely! What did the Trojans ever do to you for you to be so obsessed with this?! Will your blood thirst only be quenched, when you can march through the gates of Troy to incinerate its inhabitants with your own hands?! Do what you must, but heed this; should I ever feel like destroying one of the cities _you_ hold dear, do not get into my way. Let me do as I please, as I do for you, even though I do not like it. The Trojans have never failed to honour the gods as it is due; my altars were never void of the best sacrifices and presents my worshippers had to offer.”

Hera inhaled sharply, but returned: “My dearest cities are Argos, Sparta and Mykene. Should any of them ever invoke your wrath, destroy them if you want. I couldn't stop you, if I tried – you are the strongest here. Still, my efforts should not be in vain. I am divine like you, we have the same parents and yet I'm the first of the goddesses, because _you_ chose me to be your queen. So we should be in agreement, even if it's just for the sake of being role models to the rest of the gods. Do you not agree, my great and most beloved husband? Thus, we should send Athena down to tempt the Trojans into breaking the truce they made with the Achaeans. What do you say?”

Zeus chuckled at this response, but nodded his head towards Athena.

The goddess of wisdom jumped up eagerly and rushed down like a comet.

A Trojan archer shot at Menélaos, barely missing a critical body part (thanks to Athena's intervention) and the oath of peace was broken.

Soon the two sides were back at each other's throats again.

Back on Olympos, Zeus rose from the table, and retreated to the Room of Fate.

There stood a huge pair of golden scales – the Scales of Fate, gifted to him by great Ananke, the Protogenos of fate and necessity.

Zeus had not agreed to the destruction of Ilios out of favour.

It was the fate of Troy and many more warriors, that they should fall.

It was a hard choice to make; many of the people who would fall were in his personal favour and some even were his dear children.

But he was the King of the Gods.

And as such, sparing someone out of favouritism was not an option.

Meanwhile the Scales of Fate were swinging up and down, towards the Achaeans, then towards the Trojans, then back and back again …

Book Five:

As Athena was rushing about the army, spurring on the warriors, she was also looking for her half-brother Ares. His influence on the mortal fighters was hindering her work.

Oh, there he was – personally slaying Achaeans left and right and generally being his bloodthirsty, mass-murdering self.

She snuck up on him, but he noticed her before she could startle him.

Athena ignored the spear to her face and said: “Hi to you too, brother.”

“For fuck's sake, what do you want?”, Ares spat.

“For you to retreat, _Brotoloigos_ ⁶, before father gets angry.”

“You're lying. He didn't send you”, he remarked.

Athena huffed: “Alright, if you want to be like that …”

Then she promptly grabbed him, threw him over her shoulder, carried him off like this (despite his very vocal protest) and dumped him onto a rock nearby the river Skamandros.

“Father will decide over the victory. You stay here, or else!”, she warned.

Then she went back, while Ares gawked after her, wondering what the heck just had happened.

Athena heard a prayer and quickly found Diomedes. He had just been wounded and was now praying for her assistance in avenging himself.

She poured courage and strength over him and also manipulated his sight.

“Now that you can tell gods and humans apart”, she whispered into his ear, “Remember this; do not fight the gods, you don't stand a chance – unless it's Aphrodite; she's a wimpy bitch.”

Diomedes, now powered up and high on adrenaline, immediately rushed back into battle and began to massacre Trojans left and right, as if he was Ares in disguise.

He quickly found the Trojan archer who had shot him in the shoulder and killed him.

His companion, a Trojan nobleman named Aineías, jumped off his chariot to defend the corpse of his fallen comrade, but Diomedes quickly grabbed a huge stone and knocked him out.

Aphrodite, who was Aineías' mother, saw this and came to rescue her son.

However, Diomedes decided (much to Athena's sadistic pleasure), that he'd have none of that and promptly chucked a spear at the goddess of love. It hit her wrist, tore through the skin and Ikhor splat everywhere. She screamed in shock, terror and pain like a little bitch (seriously, it was just a cut!), dropped her son and fled, followed by the taunting of her injurer.

Apollon came to Aineías' rescue instead and caught him, before he could hit the ground. When Diomedes – blinded by battle frenzy – began to attack him too, Apollon lost his patience and began to glow ominously.

“Back off, mortal! You are delusional, if you believe, that you can hold your own against me!”

Diomedes did the wise thing and obeyed.

Meanwhile Aphrodite was searching the field in panic, until someone seized her by the hand: Iris, the messenger of Hera, had taken pity on her and was now leading her away from the turmoil.

“Calm down, Aphrodite”, the goddess of the rainbow tried to soothe her, “Look, there is Ares!”

The goddess of love promptly rushed over to her lover, who was basically just chilling at the banks of the river Skamandros.

Ares was startled, when he was tackled by a hysterical love goddess.

“Whoa! Aphrodite?! What happened, why are you-?”

In tears she told him what had happened.

He scowled, but kept his composure. “Let me see the wound.”

When she did, he blinked. “Aphrodite, you kicked arse in the Gigantomakhia and now you're freaking out over a scratch? Alright, alright, I'm sorry”, he apologised, when she glared tearfully.

“Just give me your chariot!”, she wailed, “I want to go home as quickly as possible!”

“Sure”, he consented and kissed her forehead.

“And my son – my son!”

“Don't worry, Apollon's got him. See?”

She sobbed in relief, when she spotted Apollon carrying Aineías away to safety.

Then she mounted Ares' war chariot and Iris drove her back to Olympos.

When she got there, she was healed by Apollon's son Asklepios, who gave her kind words of comfort.⁷

But just a few minutes later, Athena and Hera returned from the battlefield and promptly proceeded to mock her relentlessly.

“If you don't mind, my dear father”, Athena said innocently, “Surely Aphrodite has been doing that thing again, where she tempted a Greek woman to run after a Trojan and cut her hand on the needle of a brooch, when she fixed the woman's dress!”

Hera cackled hysterically and Zeus chuckled in amusement.

“Good to see you all have so much fun at my expense!”, Aphrodite spat.

“Hey, you do it all the time, it's time we get a good laugh too!”, Hera retorted.

Zeus finally stopped snickering and put a hand on Aphrodite's shoulder. “Now, now, my dear aunt. You're simply past the time of your life, when you could kill a giant with one swing of your blade. Your sword has grown dusty and your battle prowess is in the past. We have two professional war deities and many others who have a function in war, myself included. You on the other hand have a far fairer profession: the works of love and marriage.”

Meanwhile, Apollon had brought the unconscious Trojan nobleman to his temple, where his mother Leto and Artemis tended to his wounds.

_Okay, now where is Ares – oh for fuck's sake, is he still sitting there like a moron?!_

Apollon huffed and marched over to the river, where Ares indeed was still lounging, as if there wasn't relentless slaughter going on.

“Ares!”, he snapped, making the older god jump. “Get your lazy arse up and rid the battlefield of that madman Diomedes! He hurt Aphrodite at the wrist, attacked even me and at this point it wouldn't surprise me, if he took on our father Zeus as well! That man is hardly human, he fights with the strength of a Daimon! He is dangerous! You're the god of terrible war! Stop him!”

“Alright, alright, I'm on it!”, Ares grumbled defensively, “Get off my dick, will ya?!”

Apollon responded maturely, by sticking his tongue at him, ere he returned to his temple.

Ares teleported himself onto a wall, taking the shape of a Thracian ruler he favoured.

With fiery words, he stirred up the fighting spirit of the Trojans and their allies.

With renewed vigour they threw themselves into battle, although their opponents held them back with united strength.

He decided to help them a little more and held his hand above the Trojans. Darkness came over the plain and Aineías rejoined the fray, which significantly boosted the morale of the Trojans.

Still they couldn't seem to break through; the Achaeans stood like a wall.

_Damn , they really need my help! Somehow this must be the fault of Daddy's Owl … but where is she? Eh, who cares!_

He decided to get back to what he had been doing before Athena had interfered.

Nearby were his twin-sister Enyo and his best friend Eris, sowing more belligerence and strife and riling up the mortals.

Oh, there was Hektor. He had come to aid his people and was slaying Achaeans left and right.

Ares laughed heartily and joined the Trojan hero.

On Olympos, Hera addressed Athena: “Athena, we need to do something! We promised Menélaos, that he could return to Sparta once he conquered Troy and took his wife Helena back, but my son and Hektor are about to ruin everything! It's time to go to war.”

Athena nodded grimly and while Hera ordered her daughter Hebe to ready her war chariot, she donned her armour and that of her father. Armed with her spear and her father's Aigis, which bore the horrid face of the Gorgon, she jumped onto the chariot with Hera.

Sometimes Athena nearly forgot Hera's war-ridden past, but as the Queen of the Gods came, in armour from head to toe and a long, heavy spear in one and the reins of her horses in the other hand, she was reminded, that Hera was a warrior at the core.

The Queen of the Skies spurred on her horses and the Horai tore the Gates of Olympos open to make way.

But then Hera spied Zeus, just lounging on a cloud and being his smug and very neutral self.

She held her horses and spoke to her husband: “Zeus! Ares is wreaking havoc down there. Doesn't it irritate you too, that he is slaying the best Achaeans down there, while Aphrodite and Apollon, who let him loose, are having a blast? Allow me to put an end to our son's murder spree and to give him a good beating!”

Zeus laughed heartily: “Go on, my dear wife! And sic Athena on him; she has experience in punishing him and as I see, in plundering too.”

Athena just grinned cheekily.

With Zeus approval secured, Hera's chariot descended to earth quicker than lightning. The two goddesses had joined the ranks of the Achaeans.

While Hera spurred them on with sharp and fiery words, Athena approached Diomedes.

The man had sat down to nurse the wound, which had been inflicted on him earlier and was now inflamed to the point where the pain was crippling his arm.

“What is this?!”, she demanded to know, “Some fine son Tydeus got himself there! I remember him so well; he was small in frame, but one of the greatest warriors I have ever known. You on the other hand! Ha! Were you half the man he was, you would be fighting the Trojans!”

Diomedes got defensive and reminded her, that she had told him not to attack any gods apart from Aphrodite. “Ares himself is leading the Trojans in battle. It's only because of your instructions that I made my troops draw back.”

Athena smirked, grabbed his face and her bright blue eyes were blazing with pugnacity and fire.

It was a testimony to the man's boundless bravery and faith in her, that he didn't even tremble, that her burning gaze didn't fill him with fear, though he knew exactly who was speaking to him.

“Yes, now I see him in you!”, she exclaimed, “You really are the son of your father! Fear not Ares or any of the other immortals, as long as I am with you. Once this sadistic madman promised his mother Hera and me to support the Achaeans. Now look at him helping the Trojans! He really needs a reality check. And …”, her smirk widened. “ … who could give it better than you?”

They mounted his chariot and rode into battle.

Athena knew, that to Diomedes Ares had to be horrifying; even to the other Olympians the blood-stained, untameable and murderous god of terrible war was a frightening sight to behold.

But as she had said before, the Argive had nothing to fear with her by his side.

Ares was busy robbing the corpse of someone he had just murdered. However, as he spied a shiny golden helmet, that could only belong to one person (Diomedes of Argos), he instantly dropped the corpse and dashed through the fray, his face a bloodthirsty grimace.

With a well-aimed throw, his spear flew towards the mortal, but … it missed?!

_What the- how is that possible?! How?! How did I miss? I never miss!_

Ares opted to use his second sight. This way he could sense a divine presence next to the mortal he wanted to kill.

“Daddy's Owl. I should have known it's you …”, he growled under his breath.

_ARES, WATCH OUT!_

_What?_

Diomedes' own spear flew and hit its target.

Ares' eyes widened.

The weapon had pierced clean through his stomach.

For a second Ares was too shocked to even register the pain.

Then Diomedes pulled his spear back out and it hit full force.

He screamed.

An unholy, rough and piercing roar, as if ten thousand men were screaming out of one throat.

It was so loud and so terrifying, that the warring mortals forgot what they were doing and clung to each other in fear and panic.

“You will pay!”, he choked and glared at the spot where he knew Athena's eyes to be. “You fucking bitch! You will pay!”

He summoned a whirlwind to carry him up into the sky and dragged himself all the way back to Olympos and into Zeus' throne room.

“Why is it”, he growled, as he showed his father the spear wound, “That everyone has to obey your command, while your daughter Athena can do whatever she wants?! While apparently I am not even allowed to do my fucking job?! She plays with all of us as she pleases – ngh! – and now she has sicced that arrogant fucker Diomedes on her fellow gods! That bastard sliced Aphrodite's hand open, assaulted Apollon and now this – ow, fuck! Had I not bailed, I would be lying under a pile of corpses or worse, be crippled – no offence, Hephaistos …”

“Some taken”, the smith replied drily.

Ares continued his rant: “And you, Zeus, just sit and watch, while she has the time of her life, pushing everyone else around! For the sake of your other children, for your whole family, dial it back with the favouritism and control her!”

But Zeus just replied scornfully: “Oh stop whining into my ears, you double-faced liar! Of all the gods that dwell here on Olympos, I despise you most. You have nothing but strife and bloodshed in your head, you're always looking for trouble – you got that from your mother. Were you not my son, I would have sent you to Tartaros a long time ago.”

“If I am the way I am”, Ares retorted coldly, “It's not because of the way my mother raised me, but it's because _you_ didn't raise me any better – in fact, I don't remember you raising me at all. Also, I hate you too. I hate you so much.”

Zeus was visibly struggling to keep his composure (if the dark clouds outside hadn't made it obvious, his tense, stony face did), but only inhaled sharply and ordered for Asklepios to treat his son's injuries.

“I'm sorry for that”, the doctor later said, as he was applying healing salve to Ares' wound.

The war god's red eyes shifted to him. “What do you mean?”

His mien and tone were blank, but Asklepios could tell, that his uncle knew what he meant.

“What … what Zeus said earlier. I heard it all.”

“Spare me your pity, nephew”, Ares said coldly.

“What I feel for you isn't pity”, Asklepios contradicted. “Don't mistake compassion for pity. I too have suffered the wrath of Zeus; he killed me with a thunderbolt, back when I was a mortal and deified me only for my father's sake. But that happened quickly and only once. I do not like you, Ares, but no one deserves that kind of treatment.”

Ares chuckled wryly and (much to Asklepios' surprise) ruffled the doctor's blond head.

“You're a good kid. But don't waste your compassion on me”, the older god advised. “I don't need it. It has been this way for 38 000 years (that's how old I am) and it means nothing to me.”

Asklepios had the feeling, that the war god wasn't being completely honest, but he knew better than talking back to Ares.

“There”, he said instead, as the older man's injuries were closing. “Now a nice bath and some fresh clothing and you'll be as good as new. Shall I apply a salve to make the scar disappear?”

“No”, Ares chuckled, “It's just another scar in my collection. I don't mind it as much as I mind some of the others.”

When Hera and Athena came home a little later, they found Ares standing near Zeus' throne.

He had been perfectly patched up, was wearing fresh clothes and bore himself with an odd dignity.

Athena immediately realised, that he was attempting to keep his last shred of pride, with his perfectly blank and indifferent expression and aloof posture.

But when he looked up and saw her, his facade slipped just for a second.

His red eyes burned with unadulterated loathing, as they met her blue ones.

She responded with a similar glare, before resuming her own position at her father's side.

Book Seven:

Right after the gods had left the battlefield, Hektor and Paris joined their fellow Trojans and began to slaughter enemies left and right.

Apollon was watching them invisibly from the city walls, always the victory of the Trojans in his mind.

But when he saw Athena dash down from the sky with obvious intentions, he flew across the field to catch her.

“Are you meddling yet again?!”, he reproached her, “What is this, the fifth time today?! Look, I know you don't give a shit, that all those good Trojans are dying, but for once, can you just not?! Let us end the senseless bloodshed for today. Tomorrow is another day and surely you can't be in this much of a hurry to lay this great city to waste, can you?!”

Athena countered: “Actually, that was what I had in mind, when I came just now. But how do you plan to achieve a duel, _Hekatos⁸_?”

“Hektor”, Apollon replied coolly. “He's easy to persuade. A duel, one on one, a battle to the death. And if he demands one, it will compel the Achaeans to choose one out of their ranks to fight him.”

Athena had no objections to that.

So the god of prophecy sent a vision to Helenos, one of Hektor's brothers, to let him know the gods' intentions.

Not much later, Hektor was challenging the Achaeans to chose one of their ranks to fight him. His condition was that the loser's armour should go to the victor, but the corpse should be returned to their respective side.

The Achaeans were hesitant.

Finally Menélaos, revolted by everyone's cowardice, stepped forward, but was stopped by his brother Agamemnon, who warned him that there was no way he could win against Hektor.

Then the old king Nestor roasted everyone and several, grabbed by their honour, volunteered.

They drew lots and Ajax the Greater was chosen.

After a more or less respectful address, the two warriors began to duke it out.

Ajax quickly proved himself to be Hektor's equal.

Their combat was so vicious, that Apollon interfered and helped the Trojan prince up.

Then the two mortals forgot about their spears and shields and began a mortal sword fight.

Until two heralds stepped in and drew them apart.

“Enough!”, one of them spoke, “Let it be. Zeus favours you both equally. You have proven to him and us, what exceptional warriors you are. But cease it now. It's growing dark and it's better to call it a night.”

The opponents agreed to do that, complimented each other's battle prowess and exchanged gifts.

Apollon couldn't help but find it wonderful, how these two enemies set an example by respecting each other, both as warriors and people.

Meanwhile, several Trojans demanded, that Helene be given back to the Achaeans and many agreed.

Unfortunately, Paris refused to give her back, insisting that she was his wife now (even though she really wasn't), although he did offer to give back her treasure.

Priamos sighed and send a messenger to the Achaeans to let them know of it and ask for permission to bury their dead.

Of course they refused the offer of the treasures, but they agreed to stop all fighting, until the fallen warriors on both sides had been buried properly.

On Olympos, Poseidon had complaints.

The Achaeans had built a wall around their camps and now the Lord of the Seas was bothered by it being built without any sacrifices to him and that the wall he and Apollon once had built around Ilios would be forgot.

Zeus pinched his nose and spat: “Oh, for the love of me, do you have nothing else to worry about?! You can destroy that thing once the war is over and the Achaeans are gone, but now stop whining to me about it!”

Once their argument was settled, the King of the Gods retreated to his study and proceeded to spend the rest of the night plotting bale and doom for the warring people on earth.

Shortly after midnight a knock on the door pulled him from his plotting.

“Enter!”, he cried.

The door opened to reveal …

“Ares!” Zeus stood up. “What a surprise! It's been more than a century since you came to my office of your own volition! Do come in!”

Ares looked uncharacteristically modest, as he came in, which was even more surprising.

“My dear father”, he began, “I wish to apologise for earlier. And, if you will, discuss a few things with you?”

Zeus' interest was piqued.

“I'm all ears, my son and heir.”

Their conversation was short and almost business-like.

But at the end the King of the gods was laughing heartily: “Sometimes I forget just how much of me and your mother you have in you! Oh, if the others knew just how underhanded you can be in your spite, they would see you differently. Yet you're right with what you say and I see no harm in humouring you for a change. Your idea is a good one. Go to bed now, my son, and rest secure in the knowledge, that for once in your life, you beat your half-sister at her own game.”

Book Eight:

In the next morning, Zeus gathered his family in the assembly hall.

“From now on, I alone will guide the course of war on earth”, he announced. “None of you is allowed to interfere. No one. If you do, I will roast you with a thunderbolt. As you are gods, you won't be reduced to ashes, but Ares here can confirm, that the results are still really nasty.”

At these words, Ares, who was standing next to Zeus' throne, pushed back the bangs that were covering the left side of his face, revealing the hideous scar they were hiding. The sight made several of the attendants gasp.

Zeus went on: “As you can see, he still has that one, because not even Asklepios' healing arts would rid one of _that_ kind of scar. And my thunderbolt just grazed him, so he was lucky. Imagine, what would happen to you, if I hit you full on. Or even better yet, I will throw you into Tartaros, if you disobey me. I'm sure my brother's face will be priceless, once I leave you to him.”

Everyone was gaping at him, speechless over those straightforward threats.

Athena was the first one to regain her speech.

“Dear father”, she began with a shaky voice, “We know that you are the strongest. If you wish, we won't interfere with the battle. But won't you at least allow us to give counsel? Hera, Poseidon and I can't help but pity the poor fighters, who have to deal with their imminent demise as best as they can. Won't you allow us to try and spare some in this manner?”

Zeus laughed, but quickly resumed his stern demeanour.

“This is as far as you all may go”, he accommodated. “Even you, my little Owl-Eye, will be punished, if you go against my orders.”

Athena bit her lip, but nodded.

Right after the assembly was ended, Zeus descended to earth to supervise the happenings down there.

Athena used the opportunity to go after Ares.

Barely holding back her anger, she followed him into a lone hallway and grabbed him by the shoulder.

“This is your doing, isn't it?”, she hissed.

Oh so slowly Ares turned around to face her. His butter-wouldn't-melt expression made her want to wring his neck.

“My _dear_ sister”, he cooed, “I haven't the faintest idea what yer talkin' about!”

“Don't play that game with me!”, she snarled, “You put it into his head to force us to sit here and kick our heels like complete idiots, so _he_ can hog the entire show and turn the war into a fucking board game!”

“Ya mean, he hasn't been doin' that before?”, Ares countered.

“Ares, I warn you! Don't think I didn't catch your disgusting smug grin earlier, when he threatened us all with what would happen, should we disobey him! How casually you let us see your scar, even though you grew your hair longer on the left side for the sake of hiding it?! How else could _you_ of all gods be so calm and cavalier about this, if you weren't the one behind it?!”

The war god chuckled and swiped her hand off his shoulder.

“Ah, I wouldn't say that I'm behind it, although I might have a part in it.”

“What did you do?”, Athena growled.

He shrugged casually. “Eh, I just had a talk with him last night. From son to father, ya know. Resolvin' an argument we had after I came back from down there, doin' some business.”

“Doing some business!”, Athena echoed incredulously, “You persuaded him to stop everyone from interfering with the battle! How?! How did you do this?! You're anything but a man of eloquence!”

Ares laughed cruelly: “I didn't need to be. I just pointed out the obvious. If _I'm_ not allowed to do my job, why should _you_ – or anyone for that matter? I asked for justice and I got it.”

“Why, you-!”

He caught her fist, before she could hit him in the face.

“Now, now! No need to throw a hissy fit! I just gave you a taste of your own medicine!”

Athena was _this_ close to deicide!

“What do you mean, a taste of my own medicine-”

She cried out in surprise, when he seized her by her chiton and pulled her close.

“How does it feel to not get your will, huh, Daddy's Owl?”, he growled, “That doesn't feel so great now, does it? This is what I have to bear with all the time. Although it probably stings you more than me … after all, you are his 'Little Owl-Eye'. It's probably way more mortifying, when you're used to always getting what you want. But that's not the case for me, which makes this whole thing just the sweeter!”

Forcefully he pushed her away, making her stagger a little.

“You injured me yesterday, both physically and psychologically”, he reminded her coldly. “You let a mortal pierce me with a spear and returned home in triumph with my mother, to gloat over how you two stopped me. And you expected for me to just let it go? No. I am spiteful like my mother. And if I want, I can be pretty damn underhanded, just like our daddy dearest.”

“Why should father listen to you?!”, she snarled, “To you of all gods!”

Ares smiled frigidly: “Sometimes he listens to me … because I'm his _heir_.”

Her blood ran cold.

Of course.

The Greek gods followed the principle of primogeniture, which required for a ruler to be succeeded by his oldest legitimate son.

And Ares, even though he was Zeus' least favourite son, was his only _legitimate_ one.

The war god sighed and span around on his heel. “It's really sad, how you always forget that. But it doesn't matter. The Achaeans will conquer Troy eventually, but no one will be truly the victor. Of that I have taken care. Well, Thetis and I – don't wanna hog the whole credit, like _you_ always do. But lighten up, Daddy's Owl; we both know our father, the prohibition won't last for that long. Sooner or later we'll all meddle with their mortal affairs again.”

He smirked at her over his right shoulder. “But right here and now, _I_ am the winner. Not gonna lie, I hated having to be so underhanded, but it was worth it. And when your side lays Troy to waste, well, enjoy watchin' on as they commit war crimes so horrid, that you'll regret havin' supported them. This is the price you pay for your victory. Have a nice day, Daddy's Owl. Don't choke on that piece of humble pie, will ya?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) "Of the wrath sing, goddess, of Akhilleus, son of Peleus,  
> his cursed wrath, which brought so much woe to the Achaeans (the Greeks) ..."  
> The opening sentence of the Iliad.  
> 2) If you have never heard of Mycenae, please look it up. For the context, it's one of the Greek main powers during that era and is ruled by Agamemnon (who is a fucking arsehole), the brother of Menélaos. The later Greek civilization considered itself a successor to the Mycenaean culture.  
> 3) Smintheus: "Lord of the Mice/Rats", one of Apollon's epithets.  
> 4) Danaoi: the Greeks, as referred to around the area of Troy.  
> 5) Ioímios: "Lord of the Plagues", one of Apollon's epithets. Both of the aforementioned epithets refer to his function as god of pests and plagues.  
> 6) Brotoloigos: "Slaughterer of Men/Manslaughtering", an epithet of Ares.  
> 7) In the Iliad, she flees to her mother Dione, who treats her wound and comforts her. But I'm going with the account of Hesiod's Theogony, according to which Aphrodite has no mother. She sprung from Ouranos' severed testicles, that fell into the sea, after Kronos castrated him. So instead of Dione, in my version she is comforted by Asklepios, the divine doctor. As for Asklepios, in his place the Iliad mentions Paian as the doctor of the gods and as god of healing. But his identity isn't clear and Paian is also an epithets of several other gods with an association with healing (Paian means "Healer").  
> 8) Hekatos: "Worker from Afar", one of Apollon's epithets (in his function as god of archery and prophecy)
> 
> Bonus: Yes, I know that in the book Ares has nothing to do with Zeus' order for the gods to stay out of the fighting for now (I'm reading that damn thing for the 3rd time now!). I just thought, it would be funny if he used his few braincells for petty revenge in the most devious way he can think of. So that's my own invention, lol.


	11. The Trojan War, Pt. 02

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here we have the chapter of the war, where Zeus gets wiled by Hera, Athena prevents a catastrophe and lots of heart-breaking stuff happens.

The Trojans were currently crushing the Achaean forces, spurred on by Zeus with power and courage.

But on Olympos Hera was pacing up and down her porch, while Athena was sitting on the staircase, watching her stepmother.

“It's a disaster, Athena”, she rambled, “A disaster! Look at this, Hektor is raging among the Achaean troops like a madman! No one seems able to stop him, just behold all of this slaughter! Is there nothing we can do?!”

“As much as I would like to stop him and blow his lights out”, Athena grumbled sourly, “You have heard father earlier. And he is the one allowing Hektor to wreak havoc. He is full of aggression and anger and he has forgot all the things I have done – all the times I had to come to the aid of his son Herakles, back when he was a mortal. Had I known what I know today, I wouldn't have. Now he's slighting me in favour of Thetis, just because she wheedled and kissed his knees to restore Akhilleus' lost honour. Well, sooner or later father will call me his 'little Owl-Eye' again. Let's go and see if we can end the slaughter after all.”

Stepmother and Stepdaughter exchanged a glance of mutual agreement.

Hera readied her chariot and horses, while Athena armed herself and grabbed a long and heavy spear, hell-bent on unleashing her wrath upon the Trojans.

But neither of them noticed Ares and Apollon, who saw them dash through the Heavenly Gates.

Apollon frowned: “Didn't they hear what father said earlier?”

Ares snickered and rubbed his hands gleefully: “Yes, they did. Oh, this is gonna be _good_!”

“Should we give father a call?”

“Nah, I'm sure he'll notice.”

And notice Zeus did.

He noticed and he was _not_ pleased!

Before he could do something he'd regret, he sent Iris up to them.

“Say this: I tell them openly – and I am used to keeping my word – that I will hurl my lightning at them and throw them off their chariot. Athena shall learn what it means to go against her father. I don't care about Hera; she can't help but act up it doesn't get to me anymore.”

Iris nodded and tore through the air and back to Olympos to stop the two goddesses.

“In the name of Zeus! Whereto so fast?”, she confronted them, “Are you out of your mind? Zeus forbids you to help the Achaeans! He tells you openly – and he is used to keeping his word – that he will hurl his lightning at you and throw you off that chariot. You, Athena, shall learn what it means to go against your father. He doesn't care about Hera, she can't help but act up and it doesn't get to him anymore. But you insolent wench have gone too far! Do you really dare to shake that huge spear in front of him?!”

With that message delivered, she returned to Zeus.

It took a moment for Hera and Athena to recover from their stupor.

“Did she just call me an insolent wench?!”, Athena asked incredulously.

Hera sighed: “Let it go, it doesn't matter. We better go back – a few mortals are not worth pushing our luck. May chance decide over who wins and who dies. Let Zeus do as he pleases, it's his privilege as King of the Gods.”

They drove back and joined the rest of the Olympians at lunch, before retreating to a corner to sulk.

Athena's bright blue eyes wandered along the others, until they stopped at Ares.

Placidly he was eating his lunch, looking so innocent and noninvolved, it was absurd.

Until his eyes met hers for the split of a second and she could see the glee and smugness, before he resumed his innocent act.

_I could strangle him!_

Her anger intensified, when Zeus returned.

Zeus stopped his chariot in front of the main palace and Poseidon lead the horses away, looking as if the day couldn't get any worse.

Of course, Zeus always knew how to make someone's day worse, but Poseidon hadn't been the one to attempt to disobey him. So he would leave him alone.

When he entered the dining hall, the King of the Gods saw his wife and favourite daughter sulking in a corner and promptly proceeded to make fun of them.

“Are you pouting, because I made no exception for you? I don't know what you expected. When I say I will punish anyone, who goes against my prohibition, I mean it! You should know better than to try and interfere with me; none of you is my equal in strength, you know that. You don't know the horrors of war as well as you think you do – that would be Ares. Isn't that right, my son?”

Ares looked up from his lunch and answered: “I think I do and if you say it too, it must be true.”

“There you have it!”, Zeus laughed.

He could tell that Athena's blood was boiling, but as always she bit her tongue.

Hera on the other hand began to vent her anger, until Zeus cut her off: “If you have a modicum of self-preservation, you will sit and watch, as I lend my power to the side _I_ favour – and it's not yours. The Trojans will remain victorious through my will and Hektor will only cease to slay Achaeans, when Akhilleus joins the fray. And that won't happen, before his dear Patroklos dies. This is what fate has determined. Suck it up and accept it, or say hi to our father and his allies from me. My patience is finite, Hera. You know that.”

The last threat was a bluff, he wouldn't throw his wife into Tartaros. Still it worked.

Hera blanched with anger, but only folded her arms.

“I hate you”, she hissed, so quietly that only he heard it.

He chuckled: “Of course you do.”

Book Eleven:

In the morning after, Zeus rose and decided to go for a walk outside.

Seeing that no one had got up yet (except for Ares and Hermes, who were early birds), he walked the ways of Olympos, enjoying some peace and quiet.

As he came near the gates and onto the lookout, he turned his gaze down to earth and had an idea.

He grinned and whispered a summoning spell.

Eris came, flapping her wings in the air before him.

“Whatcha want, Kronides?”, she demanded to know.

Zeus chuckled: “Are you in the mood for war, daughter of Nyx?”

The Daimona bared her vampiric teeth in a smirk. “Gee, I don't know, are you a sex addict?”

“Don't push it.”

“Alright, alright, I'm off”, she snickered, before tearing through the air quicker than lightning.

She stood on the rail of one of the ships and her piercing war cry tore the Achaeans from their rest.

They readied themselves to face the Trojans, who had already marched up and positioned themselves in front of the palisades of their enemies.

Zeus let it rain, a rain of blood as an omen of death – just because he could.

The two sides met in battle and a vicious struggle began, much like two lions fighting for dominance over a pride.

And above all of this flew black-winged Eris, the goddess of strife and discord, overjoyed, since she was the only goddess here.

Zeus had grounded the other gods on Olympos and the battlefield belonged to her and her alone.

He was watching in interest, as down below Agamemnon finally got his time to shine.

As the leader of the Achaeans mercilessly drew the Trojans back and carved a bloody trail through their forces, Zeus held his protecting hand over Hektor, shielding him from spears and arrows.

Eventually he decided to send Iris down to earth with a message.

“Tell Hektor, that he is to keep his troops in the defensive, while Agamemnon is wreaking havoc on the battlefield. But as soon as the King of Mycenae gets wounded, he and the Trojans can go full out again.”

So she did and Hektor followed that advice.

Book Twelve:

Hours of mortal combat saw several important leaders of the Achaeans get wounded, like Agamemnon, Menélaos and Odysseus. The remaining soldiers fought bitterly to defend the wall around the Achaean camp.

Zeus sent bad weather to the Achaeans and caused a dust storm, just because he could. And to help the Trojans even further he sent his son Sarpedón into battle to aid them. The Lykian king tore a chunk of the wall open, but for a while couldn't break further through.

It was only when Zeus really turned the tides to the favour of the Trojans, that Hektor tore through the wall and began to wreak destruction in the Achaean camp.

Book Thirteen:

All this time Poseidon had stood back, as his brother had commanded, but now he was finally tired of Zeus puppeteering the entire war.

So when he noticed that his _younger_ brother (Zeus claimed to be the oldest, but he had been born last, so he could kiss Poseidon's arse in that regard) was turning his attention elsewhere, Poseidon quickly took action.

He took the shape of an Achaean seer and made his way through the crowd to the Aiantes, who were basically defending the camps all by themselves.

With encouraging words, he wiped away their exhaustion and gave them new strength.

Realising that a god had come to their aid, they went back to defending the ships with renewed vigour, while Poseidon hurried through the Achaean army to boost everyone's morals.

However not soon after, one of his grandsons fell against Hektor.

Infuriated by this, the Lord of the Sea helped a Cretan king to kill as many Trojans as possible.

Thus he indirectly opposed his own brother – a game Poseidon was very adept in, as he, Zeus and Hades always had a petty sibling rivalry going on (although the sea god always got along better with Hades than with Zeus).

Menélaos got to show again, what he was made of, as he carved a bloody canyon through the Trojan forces, the Aiantes slew enemies left and right, Ajax the Greater was fighting Hektor again …

Book Fourteen:

Poseidon was rushing through the ranks of the Achaeans like lightning and soon found their injured leader Agamemnon, who was disputing with Nestor, Diomedes and Odysseus.

The sea god didn't think twice, he turned into an old man and chided the Mycenaean ruler for doing nothing. Then he turned back to the army, encouraging and strengthening them with the vicious war cry that two days before had come from the throat of Ares.

Up on Olympos, Hera was looking down onto the spectacle.

Seeing her brother Poseidon aid the Achaeans made her heart laugh, while her husband's support of the Trojans angered her.

Hera decided to help her brother and plotted. Finally she had an idea.

The Queen of the Skies retreated to her palace and dolled herself up to her very best, before paying a visit to Aphrodite.

The goddess of love was sitting on her porch, making wreaths of asphodels, when a harrumph from Hera made her jump.

“Hera!”, she gasped, “You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

Hera laughed lightly: “My dear, I hardly believe that this would affect you, as a goddess. Anyway, can I ask you for a favour? From woman to woman? We may be on opposite sides in this conflict, but I hope that you won't begrudge me for it.”

Aphrodite smiled and put her half finished wreath away. “Well, if it's in my power, I will gladly help you! What is it?”

Hera improvised a little fib: “Alright, so you know I have been raised by Okeanos and Tethys, right? Now, they have been at odds with each other for aeons and I really want to reconcile them again. So lend me the charm of your love, with which you twist the minds of gods and mortals alike. If I could bring my dear foster parents together again, that would be so wonderful!”

The laughter-loving goddess giggled sweetly and her pink eyes sparkled.

“Oh, how could I possibly say no to that? Wait, I have it here …”

She took off her bosom girdle – a magical item that Eros Protogenos had gifted to Aphrodite, when he had become the godfather of her son, Eros the Younger. The colourful and beautifully adorned girdle held a fracture of the Primordial's power: love and yearning and all the passions and desires of the world and the sweet whispers that could make the wisest lose all sense.

And that priceless item she gave to Hera to borrow.

“Here you go, Queen of the Gods. I guarantee you, with this you will certainly achieve your goal.”

Hera thanked her with twinkling brown eyes.

She made a quick journey across Hellas to find Hypnos, the god of Sleep and persuade him to assist her in her plan.

Hypnos was hesitant, but then Hera added: “You know, a few of the Younger Kharites are still free. One of them for you to marry, if you help me? I recall, that you have always been taken with Pasithéa. What do you say?”

“… Well, I _do_ have a crush on her and she likes me too. If you swore a Stygian Oath, that I actually could marry her …”¹

“Wonderful!”, the Queen exclaimed and swore the most sacred oath of the gods, just to bribe the god of sleep to do her bidding.

Then they came onto the mountain Ida near Troy and Hera pursued her actual goal: to seduce and distract Zeus from what was going on.

The King of the Gods saw her and was immediately inflamed.

“What are you doing here?”, he wanted to know. “All dolled up, like you're going to a feast?”

Hera told him the same lie she had served to Aphrodite earlier and added, that she had just come here to let him know.

Zeus grinned: “That can wait. How about you join with me first?”

She gasped: “Zeus! Right now and here on Ida, where everyone can see us? Do you know how that would look? If any of the other gods sees us, he'll get the others, so they can spy, like the perverted peepers they are! I would be too ashamed to ever show my face among them again! What a scandal! No, let's keep it in your bedroom.”

But her husband only laughed and made a golden cloud to shield them from everyone's view.

Meanwhile on the battlefield, Poseidon was still doing his thing, when he spied Hypnos, who was circling above him.

“Here is a message from Hera!”, the god of sleep screamed, “She has distracted Zeus with her feminine wiles and I have lulled him into my slumber! Hurry to strengthen the Achaeans – you have only as long as he sleeps!”

Then the son of Nyx flew away to perform his duties in the rest of the world.

Poseidon lost no time. He dashed to the front lines and let the mortals see a glimpse of his divine glory (not all of it; mortals couldn't gaze upon immortals in their full glory without being disintegrated). His long blue hair fluttered in the wind and his mighty sword gleamed with bale, as he led the charge.

Knowing now that a god was on their side, the Achaeans stood against the Trojans with even more force than before.

Ajax the Greater managed to knock out Hektor, even though he didn't get to finish him off.

Ajax the Lesser, swift as he was, dashed through the Trojan lines and killed more of them than any of his comrades did.

Book Fifteen:

A few hours later, Zeus awoke from his slumber with a start.

As he looked down onto the scene below and saw the Trojans losing and Poseidon leading the Achaean offensive, he immediately assessed the situation and grew angry.

“So this is where it's at?”, he confronted Hera and his anger made thunderclouds gather in the sky. “You sly fox tricked me! Did the other gods send you to seduce and disarm me, so they would have free game down there?! I really want to hit you right now! Haven't you learned anything from all the other times I punished you for your nonsense?”

But Hera gave him her best puppy eyes and swore a Stygian Oath, that she had nothing to do with it. “I wasn't sent by anyone, nor did I instruct Poseidon to act as he does! In fact, I would be the first to advice him against it and tell him to instead follow your orders from now on!”

Of course Zeus knew, that she was lying.

But she couldn't be lying altogether, for no god could swear a completely false Stygian Oath, without immediately suffering the consequences.

Well, that and he really was a sucker for Hera's puppy pout face.

So he couldn't help but smile, when he replied: “Well, I can't possibly argue with that. But now hasten to Olympos and send me Iris and Apollon. I want to speak to them.”

Hera obeyed, although slightly depressed.

When she arrived on Olympos, several of the other gods came to greet her, all following Thémis, the goddess of divine order, who had been Zeus' wife before Hera.

Several gods offered her a cup of nectar, but she only accepted that of Thémis.

“What is the matter?”, the old Titanis inquired worriedly, “You look so shaken! Are you running from your terrible husband again?”

“Don't ask!”, Hera pleaded, “Tell the other gods to assemble – what I have to say will please neither gods nor mortals.”

Thémis complied.

The other gods looked positively disturbed by Hera's waxen smile, that didn't reach her eyes.

“I was foolish …”, she cried bitterly, “… to go against Zeus. He doesn't care, if we hope to have a chance against him with words or actions. He sits there and asserts to be the strongest and greatest of us and that's why you all just sit on your hands and bear it! Am I wrong?! Hasn't Ares already suffered a loss? Hasn't his dearest mortal son Askálaphos fallen?”

Athena's gaze immediately flew to Ares.

The war god had grown ghostly pale at his mother's news.

Without a word, he rose from his chair and left the room.

Concerned, she followed him and sure enough, as soon as he was outside, she heard him bellow: “Phobos! Deimos! Harness my horses this instant!”

Athena didn't think twice and ran after him.

“Ares! Ares, wait! Don't go down there! Didn't you hear what Hera just-”

“Shut your trap!”, he barked, “I will avenge the death of my son, if it's the last thing I do!”

Right in that moment the terrible twins came back with their father's horses and chariot, he leapt onto it and spurred his horses.

Athena had to run beside the chariot to keep up and nearly tripped over her peplos several times.

“STOP!”, she screamed, “YOU'RE GOING TO DOOM US ALL! EVEN IF IT'S JUST YOU, HE WILL THROW US ALL AROUND!!! DO YOU THINK HE GIVES A SHIT, WHO IS GUILTY OR NOT???”

Now he finally halted his steeds and the chariot nearly overturned from the momentum of the brake.

Athena took a few seconds to catch her breath, before continuing: “Just … tame your anger. Many greater men than your son have died or will die. The gods can't save all their children.”

Ares didn't respond, but hopped off his chariot and took his helmet off.

“This whole restraint was _your_ idea, remember?”, she reminded him softly. _Now you have to bear the consequences_ , she added in her mind, but she wouldn't say that to a grieving man.

“Do you regret it now? Because you couldn't save your child?”

The silence between them was unbearably tense, as the wind played with Athena's long black hair and Ares' short black and red curls.

It seemed like ages, until he finally faced her … and said this: “Look into my eyes, Daddy's Owl. And tell me, what you see.”

His red eyes, full of grief, betrayed his blank expression. But what she had hoped to see in them (albeit just for her own petty satisfaction) wasn't there.

“You don't regret it”, she realised. “You regret, that you couldn't save him, but not that-”

“Correct! You've got it, genius!”, Ares proclaimed with a sneer. “Oh, Athena. Do you seriously think I care about which side my children are on? Or that I would care about the Trojans enough to not massacre them all for killing my dear son? No. I don't favour _sides_. I favour certain _people_.”

Then he grabbed the reins of his horses and lead them back to where they belonged.

Athena returned to the palace, relieved that she had averted a catastrophe.

“We're safe for now”, she informed Hera. “Ares is sulking in his house or something.”

“Good”, Hera sighed, “Anyway … Apollon, Iris. Zeus wants to see you, go quickly and do whatever he wants from you.”

The archer and the messenger complied.

Poseidon already knew that things were bad, when he saw Iris approach from above.

In order to be able to speak with her, he stopped the moment (the gods could do that) and stepped to the side, so she could land.

“Poseidon!”, the goddess of the rainbow began, “I have a message from Zeus.”

But when Poseidon heard the message, he was furious. “That arrogant prick! As powerful as he is, he can't make me do anything! He is only one of three equal brothers: himself, Hades and myself. Our heritage was split justly and while he got the cloudy skies, mine are the bountiful seas and Hades received Erebos with its dark mists. The earth belongs to all, as does high Olympos! And Zeus can go fuck himself, if he thinks he can order me around or even intimidate me! He can do that with his children (they're the second generation and owe him filial respect after all), but not me!”

Iris frowned. “Uhhh … do you really want me to tell him that? Exactly like that? I mean …”

“Fine, you have a point”, Poseidon gave in. “Honour to your tact and diplomacy, rainbow-haired messenger. Still I will not be pushed around like that, especially not by someone who is my equal and not my superior! Tell him this: I warn him, that if prevents, that Troy should be razed to the ground – against my will and that of Hera, Athena, Hermes and Hephaistos – I want nothing more to do with him!”

Zeus acknowledged the answer of his brother and turned to Apollon: “Take my shield, my dear son. Go, aid the Trojans and heal Hektor. He's severely injured.”

Apollon took the Gorgon-crested shield, cut through the air like a falcon and found Hektor, who was barely conscious and coughing up blood.

_Broken ribs, pierced lungs, a rupture. It's good that father is sending me._

“Hektor”, he addressed the Trojan prince, “What happened, that you're lying here?”

Hektor opened his eyes and groaned weakly: “Which god are you … and don't you … already know? Ajax the Greater … ugh … a rock to my chest … can't breathe …”

Apollon sighed: “Hektor, it's me, _Phoíbos²_ Apollon. My father Zeus sent me to aid you.”

He healed the mortal and gave him new strength.

“Now go, son of Priamos. Lead your troops, as I hold my hand over you and put the fear of the gods into the Danaoi.”

And that was exactly what happened.

Together they massacred many Achaeans, Hektor with his spear, Apollon with the terrible Gorgoneion of his father. It was easy for the god of light to tear down chunks of the wall, like a child destroying a sand castle.

And had it not been for Ajax the Greater's courage and strength, the Trojans would have completely overrun them and set their ships ablaze.

Soon the Achaeans realised, that Zeus was on the Trojan side and stood against their enemies with courage in the face of death, born of desperation.

Book Sixteen:

Meanwhile, away from the battlefield, Akhilleus' soulmate Patroklos heard the commotion, looked out of the tent and assessed the situation in one glance.

With an apology to the injured man he had been treating, he hurried back to Akhilleus to tell him of the situation.

“Why are you crying like a baby?”, was Akhilleus' tactless greeting.

Patroklos sighed in frustration, dried his face and briefed him on the situation. Only to find, that his dear partner had a selective hearing.

“Hah! Agamemnon is injured? Nice!”

“Priorities, Akhilleus! They're setting our ships on fire! Our comrades need our help! If you won't go yourself, at least let me lead your army!”

“Fine. Here is what you do: take my armour and lead my soldiers in your battle, but do not go further than driving the Trojans away from our ships. Show the Achaeans, that you're going to battle for my glory and honour, until they give me back the war prize they took from me. Do _not_ attempt to push the Trojans back to their city, no matter what. The god Apollon with his silver bow favours the Trojans. Promise me to come back as soon as the ships are safe – when I get justice we can still storm Troy together, you and me.”

Outside, Ajax was completely exhausted, weakened by the never-ending attacks, Zeus' will and his shoulders ached from the ship pole he had been using to keep the enemy at bay. When Hektor attacked him and broke his spear, he realised that Zeus was aiding the Trojans and ruining his entire effort to defend the ships. Ajax, now demoralised and too exhausted, retreated.

Akhilleus looked outside his tent, saw one of the ships on fire and went to rally his men.

A short while and an inciting speech from Akhilleus to his men later, Patroklos, wearing the younger man's armour, lead the Myrmidones into battle.

Akhilleus went back into his tent, made a sacrifice to Zeus and prayed: “Venerated King of the Immortals, Gatherer of the Clouds, All-Seeing Lord of the Oracle of wintry Dordona … you have always heard my prayers and graced me with honour by weakening the Achaeans; hear this plea from me as well …”

Zeus heard.

But he would only grant half of the prayer:

Patroklos would not come back to the ships alive.

It was his lot, that this should be his last battle.

With Patroklos wearing Akhilleus' armour and leading an army of seriously frustrated and battle-hungry warriors, who had been denied a chance at honour, the Trojans were taken by surprise. Thinking that Akhilleus had stopped sulking and was now back in the game, they now strove to escape their deaths for a little longer.

This gave the rest of the Achaean army a chance to catch their breaths and put out the fires, before they joined the Myrmidones in battle.

The Trojans flew in panic and even Hektor saw himself forced to retreat.

Alone Sarpedón and his army resisted and the Lykian king jumped off his chariot to fight Patroklos to the death.

Zeus was torn.

He knew that Sarpedón was fated to be killed by the partner of Akhilleus, but … the Lykian was his dear son.

“I don't know”, he confided in Hera, “If I should spare him or let him fall against Patroklos.”

His queen shook her head: “It's his lot to die, Zeus. You can't just randomly spare your favourites, even if they're your offspring. Just think about it – some of the other gods already mourn sons of their own and if you save yours, they will want to do the same. Let him face his fate and die at the hand of Patroklos. But if you pity him so much, send Hypnos and Thanatos to carry him back home to Lykia, so his people can give him a hero's funeral – _that_ is the honour that is the mortals' due.”

Zeus knew that she was right and yielded. But he wept for his dear son, who was about to die far away from home and his tears fell as blood-red rain from the sky.

Sarpedón fell at Patroklos' hand and the Lykians stood around his body to defend it from the Achaeans. When Hektor found out about the death of his ally, he and his army promptly turned back around and fought to wreak vengeance.

Still Patroklos took his fallen enemy's armour and horses.

But Zeus gave Apollon a few pieces of clothing and begged him to retrieve Sarpedón's corpse, before it could be defiled by the Achaeans.

“Wash the blood away, rub his body in Ambrosia, dress him in these divine clothes and leave him to the arms of Sleep and Death. May they carry him home to Lykia, so his people can give him the burial he deserves.”

After performing this sad duty to his father and mortal half-brother, Apollon returned to earth.

Settling down on the walls of Troy, he repelled Patroklos (who had forgot Akhilleus' warning) four times in a row, before spurring Hektor on to put an end to the other.

Then the god of archery crept behind Patroklos and gave him a “light” punch between the shoulder, to knock the air out of him.

A comrade of Hektor took the opportunity and hit him with a spear in the back.

Then Hektor himself stabbed him in the abdomen.

Looking down on him, he gloated: “Did you really think, Patroklos, that you could simply plunder our city, enslave our Trojan women and ship them off to far away shores like cattle? No! Because I am here to defend my home and my people! I will keep them from such bitter slavery, but you will bite the dust here and vultures will feed of your corpse! Did he tell you to only come back with my bloody shirt, so he could stay in his camp? And you obeyed? You idiot!”

Patroklos answered with a rattling laugh: “Gloat as much as you want, Zeus and Apollon laid this victory into your lap … they defeated me by disarming me … otherwise, I could have killed many more like you … I was struck down by bitter fate, Apollon and a random Trojan … you're just the third. And you won't live much longer; you too will fall … by the hand of my Akhilleus.”

Then he died.

His charioteer took off with Akhilleus' steeds, before Hektor could kill him too and claim the horses.

Book Seventeen:

Menélaos had witnessed all of this, went mad with rage and ran to defend his comrade's body.

And conveniently for him, the Trojan, who had hit Patroklos in the back, showed up. Menélaos' spear pierced his throat, killing him.

But Hektor had stopped chasing after Akhilleus' heavenly steeds and returned to claim the demi-god's armour instead. Although Menélaos was a great warrior, even he couldn't stand against Hektor _and_ an entire army of Trojans, so he was forced to draw back.

But he spied Ajax the Greater and screamed the terrible news of Patroklos' death. Ajax immediately stopped what he was doing and came to Menélaos' aid.

Hektor only had enough time to collect Akhilleus' armour as his war prize, before the imposing, mighty frame of Ajax Telamonídes made him wisely back off.

From the clouds, Zeus was watching, as Hektor put on the impenetrable armour the gods had once gifted to Akhilleus' father Peleus, who had passed it down to his son.

The King of the Gods frowned and mumbled: “Oh dear, oh dear. You poor fool took for yourself what was never to be yours. You took the armour of a warrior, who surpasses all others and makes everyone tremble with fear, and you killed his beloved brother in arms. I will lend you strength one last time, because you will never return from this battle – and your beloved Andromákhe will never see you alive again."

On the battlefield, a fierce struggle broke out over the body of Patroklos.

It reached its peak, when the goddess Athena came down like a red comet (because Zeus had changed his mind _yet again_ ) and approached Menélaos in the guise of Akhilleus' mentor Phoinix.

“Menélaos, if the dogs of Troy get to feed off Patroklos' corpse, it will be _your_ fault!”, she accused.

“I'm doing what I can!”, the Spartan king defended himself, “But Hektor is killing everyone with the fury of Ares, because Zeus wants him to win! If only Athena would help me …”

Athena's blue eyes blazed with delight, that she was the first goddess that came to the king's mind, when he hoped for divine assistance. She gave him new strength and courage and he proceeded to attack the Trojans with the fierceness of a lion.

But at Hektor's side was Apollon, doing the very same thing.

At some point Ajax the Greater vented his desperation in an angry speech, cursing the situation and the dust cloud that was making it impossible to see anything.

Zeus found this rather cute and blew the dust away.

Now the defenders of the body could finally send a messenger to Akhilleus to tell him what had happened and took the chance to rescue Patroklos' corpse and take it away.

Menélaos and Meriónes carried the dead man away as fast as they could, while the Aiantes shielded them against the Trojan onslaught.

Book Eighteen:

Antilokhos was the one to bring Akhilleus the dread news of his beloved's death.

As soon as it sunk in, the son of Thetis screamed in anguish, tore his blond hair and sunk down in front of the improvised altar of Zeus.

Antilokhos was crying himself, but he still grabbed the other's arms, fearing that he might slit his own throat in his overwhelming grief.

Akhilleus wailed so loudly that his mother Thetis heard it down at the bottom of the sea.

She began to wail in kind, her sisters and mother joined in and soon almost all marine deities were keening.

She dove to the surface, to the coast of Ilion to join her son.

Tearfully he told her what had happened and was hell-bent on avenging his soulmate's death with Hektor's blood.

“No!”, Thetis implored, “You know you're fated to die, soon after Hektor-”

“I don't care!”, Akhilleus screamed, “I know and I don't fucking care! This is all my fault! I could have quit sulking in favour of helping him and the others, but no! Had I not stayed here to sulk, he would have lived! Now he is dead! Who cares about pride! Hektor killed my soulmate, now he will _pay_! And once that is done, I will welcome my fate. Don't try to hold me back, because I won't let you!”

“You have no armour”, Thetis reminded him, “Hektor is wearing it! I will get you a new one, if only you wait until tomorrow morning!”

“… Fine.”

She returned to the sea and told her sisters what had happened. “Tell our old father Nereus about it, while I go up to Olympos to ask Hephaistos for a new armour for my son.”

And with that, the Nereid ascended to the skies.

Meanwhile Hera saw the precarious situation the Achaeans were in.

The onslaught of the Trojans was so relentless, that Hektor was close to claiming the corpse of Patroklos and gaining everlasting fame.

But Hera lost no time and sent Iris down with a message to Akhilleus.

“Up with you, most terrible of all men!”, the golden-winged messenger snapped at him, “Help your comrades to guard the body of your partner – do you have the faintest idea how hard a time they're having against the Trojans? They, lead by glorious Hektor, are close to dragging Patroklos all the way back to their city! Shame to you, if the dogs of Troy get to feed off his flesh!”

Akhilleus glared up at her. “And how am I supposed to go into battle, when _they_ have my armour? I'm waiting for a new one and none of the other Achaeans has one that could fit me in the meantime! Which of the gods sent you?”

“Queen Hera did, the wife of mighty Zeus. Also, who's talking about battle? You're scary enough to look at as it is. Your appearance alone should scare the Trojans into flight. Now move your arse!”

And with that she was gone.

Athena stepped to him and lent him the Aigis of her father.

With that, he went outside, climbed onto the wall and and let out a fearsome war cry. Athena amplified it with her own. Their combined voices made a noise so piercing and terrifying, that the Trojans fled in panic.

Relieved, the Achaeans brought Patroklos out of harm's reach.

Hera ordered the sun god Helios to go down earlier for the day and he obeyed reluctantly.

The early break of night brought an end to the slaughter.

But the Achaeans spent the night in mourning.

Akhilleus wept bitterly over the dead body of his life partner and repeatedly vowed to wreak vengeance as soon as possible.

On Olympos, Zeus teased his wife: “So my cow-eyed queen has been at it again and made Akhilleus get a move on, hm? As if the long-haired Achaeans were your children?”

Hera just tilted her head and looked at him with her big brown eyes.

“What ever gives you that idea, my dear husband? Even a mortal, who lacks our knowledge, would stand up for their friends of their own volition. It's only natural, that I do it too! Besides … they are _your_ children; you had them with Elektra …”

Then they got into a fight over one of Zeus' affairs.

Again.

At the same time, Hephaistos was working in his Olympian smithy, forging chairs.

But his attention was drawn from his work, when he heard his wife Aglaia speak to someone outside.

“Thetis, welcome! What a surprise! You haven't visited in ages! Come in, come in! Here, have a chair and some nectar! I will get my husband.”

Then Aglaia poked her head into the smithy: “Heph, come quickly! It's Thetis!”

“Holy goat!”, he cried, “Thetis, you say? Please, give her our best, while I tidy up!”

He hurriedly put away his tools and the chair he had been working on, got cleaned up, put a clean chiton on and pushed his wheelchair into the guest room.

“Mama!”, he called to her, “I'm so glad to see you! What brings you here?”

Then he saw her expression and frowned: “What's the matter, you look like it's the end of the world? Come on, you know you can tell me everything.”

Hephaistos was shocked, when the older goddess burst into tears and poured her poor aching heart out to him. Seeing the goddess, who had always been more mother to him than the one who had birthed him, suffer like this, that broke his heart. He mumbled gentle words of comfort and stroked her curly head, as she sobbed into his lap.

“Please don't cry, Mama”, he cooed, “Of course I will make a new armour for Akhilleus. And if I could, I would save him from death too. After all, he is my little brother in a way, is he not?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) There is no implication in the Iliad, that Pasithéa consented to being married off to Hypnos as a bribe, but I'm a fan of consent, so bear with me.  
> 2) Phoíbos: "Bright/Glowing One", one of Apollon's epithets.


	12. The Trojan War, Pt. 03

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the Iliad with some comic relief and lots of heartbreak at the end, because that's how the Iliad works.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't the last chapter about the Trojan War, but the next one will be. This is just the last part of the Iliad.

Book Nineteen:

The next morning saw Thetis giving her son a freshly forged armour of such splendour, that Akhilleus was the only one who could even look at it directly.

As he marched the camp up and down, the other leaders came to the assembly, even though Agamemnon, Diomedes and Odysseus were severely injured and could hardly walk.

Akhilleus announced the end of his strike, much to the delight of the Achaean army.

He and Agamemnon finally talked things out and buried their old grudges.

“Right!”, Akhilleus exclaimed, “Enough talking! Let's go into battle already!”

“Not so fast!”, Odysseus (the resident braincell-owner) objected. “Our troops are exhausted and many of us are wounded. We need all the energy we can get. So there is one more thing we have to do first!”

“And what would that be?”, Akhilleus snarled impatiently.

“Have breakfast”, Odysseus deadpanned.

“OH COME ON!!!”

“No.”

Book Twenty:

On Olympos Zeus had made his ex-wife Thémis gather all the gods (literally _all_ of them – even the Naiades and Dryades¹). Tiredly they dragged themselves out of bed and into the assembly hall.

Poseidon was the first to speak.

“Sooooo”, he drawled, “What are you plotting now, _Astrapaios²?_ ”

Zeus was lounging on his throne like a boss.

“Oh, you know what I want, _Ennosigaios³_! I won't wish for Akhilleus to conquer the city just yet, but he will, if we're not careful. And this is why I hereby decree, that the prohibition is lifted! You may interfere with the battle as much as you please!”

Suddenly everyone was wide awake and those who had taken a side in the war went to ready themselves for a battle royal – uh, I mean battle divine.

Of the Olympians, Dionysos (one of the few gods who had refused to get involved at all) was the last to leave the room. He used the opportunity to question his father.

“Dad, if you don't mind …”

“Ask away!”

“Why exactly did you change your mind again?”

Zeus chuckled at his son's perceptiveness.

“For the reason I stated earlier of course. Well, that and because I want to amuse myself by sitting here in my neutrality and watching this divine spectacle.”

“… Can I sit with you?”

“Sure, my son! Bring wine, this is going to be good!”

The gods joined the war and wasted no time in making things more interesting … for _them_!

Eris was having a blast with this spectacle.

Zeus was setting the mood above with thunder and rain.

Poseidon struck the ground with his trident and the queen of earthquakes happened.

“WHAT THE FUCK???”, he heard Hades' voice shriek from below, “POSEIDON, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING??? IF THE GROUND BREAKS OPEN AND FALLS DOWN IT WILL REVEAL THE UNDERWORLD AND BURY EVERYTHING BENEATH!!!”

Poseidon laughed sheepishly and yelled back down: “SORRY, BRO!”

_Maybe I overdid it with that earthquake …_

Some distance away, Apollon had convinced Aineías, that fighting Akhilleus would be a brilliant idea.

Poseidon didn't notice until Hera pat his shoulder and said to him and Athena: “Uh, we have a little problem back there” - and pointed to where Aineías and Akhilleus were about to duke it out.

“Don't worry, sister”, he replied, “We're stronger than them. If any of Troy's gods comes close to Akhilleus, that's nothing we can't take care of.”

Still, the gods of the Achaeans didn't want to engage in a bloodbath, before agreeing on a strategy.

On the battlefield, Aineías and Akhilleus ran into each other and started with a verbal duel, before lunging at each other. Poseidon quickly assessed, that the son of Thetis was outclassing the son of Aphrodite.

“Alright, here I come!”, he sighed, “Apollon won't save him, but the youngster is fated to live.”

Then he threw himself into the maddening throng and momentarily blinded Akhilleus, before he could decapitate the disarmed Trojan. Grabbing the mortal by the arms, Poseidon took to flight and carried him away to safety.

“Okay!”, he snapped at him, once they were back on the ground, “First off: Are you fucking insane?! Trying to take on Akhilleus, who is favoured by the gods and far stronger than you? He will send you to Hades, before your time is up! Secondly: as long as he is alive, you stay away from battle, you dumbass son of an even more dumbass goddess!”

With that, the Lord of the Sea left Aineías behind to wonder what the heck had just happened.

Akhilleus on the other hand just shrugged it off and went back to slaughtering Trojans en masse.

Apollon had warned Hektor not to go against the deranged demigod, but when the Trojan prince saw one of his brothers get killed by that very man, he forgot the warning and attacked him.

Akhilleus immediately recognised the slayer of his dear soulmate and charged with a battle cry.

But Apollon, always having the best timing, stepped in and saved the Trojan.

Again.

_This is getting old._

Book Twenty-One:

The Trojans were fleeing in panic from the deranged and bloodthirsty demigod.

But Hera conjured a thick fog, making it impossible for them to see.

Those who didn't get lost in the fog where cornered and driven into the holy waters of the river Xanthos (or Skamandros, as the mortals called him). They jumped or fell into the quick waters, struggling and screaming for help. Akhilleus in his blood rush jumped after them and slaughtered the Trojans, who were already drowning, dyeing the waters red with blood.

That pissed off the river god, because no one liked having their waters defiled with gore and corpses. Politely requesting Akhilleus to stop dumping corpses into his river didn't help, so Xanthos lost his temper and promptly left his riverbed to make the demigod stop.

Only when this colossal mass of water rose before him, was Akhilleus seized by fear and he made a run for it across the field. But the river always caught up to him, because he was still just a demigod and Xanthos a full god and gods just were stronger than mortals (unless you were Herakles).

Athena and Poseidon came to his rescue, before he could die a most unheroic death by drowning. They warned him to go back to the battlefield, kill Hektor and return to the Achaean camp, then they left to mind their own business.

But the river wasn't done yet; it joined forces with another river, both hell-bent on drowning Akhilleus.

This was seen by Hera, who turned to Hephaistos. “My son, I thought you would take care of the river god? What are you waiting for? Show him your destructive flames. I will release the winds to fuel them. Do not stop, until I ask you to.”

Hephaistos, powerful fire god that he was, raised his arms and unleashed his divine fire above the river (never mind, that it was still raining). Hera released the north and south wind.

The unearthly fire storm, hotter than the surface of the sun⁴, spread across the heath, consumed the bodies of the dead and made the rivers writhe in agony from being boiled alive.

Xanthos soon begged for mercy, but Hephaistos was only following his mother's orders, so the river turned to Hera and begged her to control her son.

Now the Queen of the Skies finally showed the mercy asked of her and told her son to stop.

Hephaistos rolled his eyes, but called his fire back.

Xanthos returned to his river bed, recovered from the torment and he stuck his head out of the water to glare at the fire god. “And here I thought you were _not_ an arsehole!”

The divine blacksmith laughed: “Oh, you're wrong! I'm _less_ of an arsehole than the other Olympians, but I still can be a prick!”

Hera chuckled in amusement.

On his throne on Olympos, Zeus was having the time of his life, because now the gods were charging at each other at last.

“Ohhh, now they're getting started! This is going to be priceless! Where are the wine, cookies and my camera?”

Hebe and Dionysos brought him both and then sat with him to enjoy the show.

In the meantime, Athena had finally turned to Ares.

“'Sup, arsehole”, she greeted him.

“'Sup, fellow arsehole”, he retorted. Then he had his sword out. “Don't think I have forgot how you let that fucker Diomedes pierce with a spear! Now it's time for payback!”

_I thought he already had- oh, never mind._

He attacked first and they duked it out for a while, before he threw his spear at the impenetrable Aigis she was wearing on her chest. Athena leapt back, grabbed a stone and hit her opponent at the back of his neck with it.

Knocked out, he collapsed.

“Hah!”, she yelled in triumph. “ _I'm_ the one who gets the payback! That's for abandoning your mother and me in favour of supporting the Trojans! Well, that and the fucking prohibition you put into our father's head. What's that with you always forgetting what everyone has realised a long time ago: that I am stronger than you and always will be!”

“Ares!”

Athena whirled around to see the goddess of love running to her lover's aid.

Aphrodite grabbed Ares' arm and began to drag him to safety.

“Are you just letting her do that?”, Hera spat at Athena.

The goddess of wisdom rolled her eyes. “Alright, I'm on it!”

Strode up to Aphrodite, who was struggling under Ares' weight and hit her on the chest, knocking her out as well. There they lay, with the bright-eyed goddess standing above them.

“This is what happens to the allies of Troy and everyone who gets in my way!”, she snarled.

Aphrodite came to herself and glared up. “You're full of shit, Athena.”

The war goddess shrugged. “Look around, Aphrodite. Everyone here is full of shit. Especially _you_.”

At the same time, Poseidon was facing Apollon.

The sea god taunted his nephew: “What is stopping you, Sunny Boy, now that the others are at each other's throats?”

Apollon sighed: “Can you _please_ not call me 'Sunny Boy'? That's Ares' shtick. Also-”

“Whatever, Sunny Boy. Where is the fun in going home without a single scratch? Let's duke it out! But first tell me: why are you supporting the Trojans? Don't you remember how they treated us? When Zeus stripped us of our immortality for a year, we had to serve Laomedon for a pittance! I built this mighty wall around Troy, while you herded his cattle. And when the year was finally over, he denied us pay and threatened to bind us, cut our ears off and sell us off as slaves! And you're helping the Trojans, after all of this? Explain!”

But Apollon remained calm.

“Does it really matter? Let's leave the mortals to their devices. I don't want to fight you over them, uncle. You're way out of my league, it would be madness.”

But Artemis grabbed him by the shoulder, outraged. “So you're chickening out?! You just give up and let him win?! If so, then don't ever let us hear you brag, that you could take on Poseidon!”

But Apollon just arched an eyebrow. “I'm not ' _chickening out_ '. I just know, when to quit – unlike _someone_ I know.”

As if on cue, Hera confronted Artemis: “You little brat! If you have the spine to make me or Poseidon your enemy, you're dumber than I thought! I will show you, just how outclassed you really are!”

Then she seized the goddess of the hunt by both wrists with one hand, tore her quiver and arrows off her shoulder with the other and smacked the shit out of her with it. When Hera was done with her, Artemis was running back to Olympos crying, leaving her bow and arrows on the battlefield.

Hermes saw this and let his opponent Leto take the win. The Titanis of motherhood gratefully gathered up the weapons of her daughter from the floor and returned to Olympos to console her.

Apollon blinked after them. “What the Tartaros did just happen?”

Poseidon laughed heartily: “Just because my sister is the goddess of marriage doesn't mean she can't kick arse! Or where do you think Ares got his temper from?”

The Earthshaker looked to the sky and knew that Zeus was shaking with laughter.

On the battlefield Akhilleus was still massacring Trojans left and right.

The king Priamos saw this from the top of the wall and ordered for the gates to be opened, so his people could save themselves.

Apollon came onto the field through the gates and held his hand over them, while they scrambled to the sweet safety of their city. He took the shape of a Trojan Akhilleus had been about to kill and allowed to chase him across the field, away from the gates of Troy. That bought the Trojans the time they needed to escape the wrath of Thetis' son.

All of them, except for Hektor; he didn't make it in time, before the gates closed.

The greatest warrior of the Trojans was shut outside.

Book Twenty-Two:

Apollon led Akhilleus away from Troy, before finally turning around.

“Hey, arsehole! Guess who!” And dropped his disguise.

Then he proceeded to mock the raging demigod, who was out of breath after chasing him for kilometres: “While you ran after me like a moron, thinking that you stand a chance against _me_ , the Trojans have barricaded themselves inside their city! They are out of your reach and you will never defeat me, Apollon!”

“You … you deceived me!”, Akhilleus gasped, “So is … the most lethal of the gods … the protector of Troy … otherwise I would have killed them all! But damn you! If it was in my power, I would give you payback!”

Apollon gritted his teeth: “But you can't, _mortal_.”

Akhilleus screamed in fury and dashed back to Troy with swift feet.

Hektor was waiting in front of the walls of Troy to challenge vengeful Akhilleus and face his imminent demise.

On top of the walls, his aged father was weeping over the cruelty of fate: that he would have to see his sons and many of his people die, his city sacked, his daughters ravaged, his grandchildren and himself murdered, his daughters-in-law sold into slavery.

But no matter how much Priamos beseeched him, Hektor didn't budge and stayed where he was, even though he was terrified. Yet as soon as he saw Akhilleus clearly, bloodthirsty and deranged like Ares himself, his flight instinct kicked in and he ran for his life. Only Apollon's assistance prevented the son of Thetis from catching up to Hektor.

While Akhilleus chased the slayer of Patroklos around the city walls three times in a row, the gods were watching from above.

Zeus shook his head. “I don't like seeing him being chased around his own city like that. And it's really a shame, that he should die already. He always honoured us gods beyond measure. Should I save this noble man or-”

“No!”, Athena protested at once, “His time is up, he must die! We can't randomly spare mortals, just because we favour them. Do whatever you want, but none of us will approve.”

“… Do what you must, but do it quickly.”

On Olympos, in the Room of Fate, the Scales of Fate weighed the lot of Hektor against Akhilleus.

That of Hektor sank, that of Akhilleus rose up.

Apollon, as the god of prophecy, sensed the shift and reluctantly left Hektor to face his doom.

Athena on the other hand joined the angry Akhilleus.

“Today the Achaeans will gain a most glorious victory! We shall slay Hektor! He is destined to die by our hands and not even Apollon's pleas to Zeus will save him now. Now hold up and catch your breath, while I persuade him to face you in battle.”

She caught up to Hektor in the shape of one of his brothers and did exactly that.

So the Trojan prince whirled around to face the son of Peleus.

They had a short dispute. Hektor entreated his opponent to agree, that the loser be returned to his people to receive a proper burial.

But Akhilleus refused: “FUCK YOUR PROPOSAL! YOU WILL PAY FOR THE DEATH OF PATROKLOS AND ALL OF MY FRIENDS WHOM YOU KILLED!!!”

“OH SHUT UP, ARSEHOLE! YOU AND YOUR COMRADES KILLED MOST OF _MY_ FAMILY AND FRIENDS TOO! AND ONCE YOU TAKE OVER OUR CITY, YOU WILL RAVAGE IT, MASSACRE THE CIVILIANS, VIOLATE AND ENSLAVE OUR WOMEN AND KILL OUR CHILDREN!!! I AM DOING WHATEVER I CAN TO PROTECT THEM!!! YOU DON'T GET TO JUDGE ME!!!”, Hektor roared in outrage.⁵

Then they threw their spears at each other.

Hektor dodged that of Akhilleus, but his own weapon flew far off, guided by Athena's hand. When he turned to whom he had thought to be his dear brother to ask for a new spear, but found him gone.

The Trojan prince realised, that he had been tricked by Athena and that the gods had decided his doom a long time ago.

“Well, fuck this shit”, he muttered, pulled his sword to face his last battle.

Their fight was short and brutal.

At long last, Akhilleus managed to stab him in the throat.

But he had narrowly missed the windpipe and so Hektor was able to rattle a few last words.

“If you have … an ounce of honour … return my corpse … to my parents … so I can be buried.”

“No.”

“Thought as much … but know this … you're – ugh! – angering the gods … you will die … by Apollon's and Paris' arrows …”

Then the greatest defender of Troy died.

For a while Akhilleus stood silently above him.

Then he finally replied to the dead man: “I know. And I don't care.”

And proceeded to outrage his vanquished enemy's corpse by tying it to his chariot and dragging it around his city several times.

While on the walls above, his grieving parents, his sorrow-stricken wife Andromákhe and the people of Troy were weeping to the Heavens.

Book Twenty-Three:

Akhilleus held funeral games for Patroklos and, after much more mourning, finally delivered him to the pyre.

Hektor's dishonoured corpse on the other hand he left to the dogs.

The dogs that would not go near it; the presence of the goddess Aphrodite, who guarded it night and day, kept them away. She and Apollon preserved his corpse, so that neither the scorching sun, nor being hauled around by Akhilleus could damage it.

The burned remains of Patroklos were put to rest in a golden urn – one that his ghost had asked Akhilleus to put them in and mix them with his own, once the son of Thetis would die.

Book Twenty-Four:

All the while Apollon had protected Hektor's corpse from being mutilated, while Akhilleus didn't stop treating it like that of a common criminal.

Day after day he and the other gods who were supporting Troy begged Zeus to send Hermes to steal away the body. And every time Poseidon, Hera and Athena had been against it, unyielding in their old grudges.

After a week, the god of light finally had enough.

“How much longer”, he confronted the other gods, “do you want to allow Akhilleus to abuse the body of Hektor in such a foul manner?! Does none of you have a heart?! Has he ever failed to give you the best possible sacrifices?! Instead of returned his body to his people to receive the funeral he deserves, you choose being butt-hurt about the stupidity of that wuss Paris and that's why you help that sociopath Akhilleus, who doesn't have an ounce of propriety, shame or even respect in his chest! Many others are mourning their loved ones and he acts like he's the only one! As honourable as his parents are, they failed to raise a decent human being!“

Hera jumped up and pointed a finger at him: “Stop going on about Hektor, like he has ever been Akhilleus' equal! One was only a full mortal, while the other is the son of Thetis, whom I raised and married to Peleus, who we all were fond of!”

“That doesn't change the fact, that Akhilleus is a fucking arsehole!”, Apollon snapped.

“Or that he wouldn't know honour, if it spat in his face!”, Artemis agreed.

“Or that he's a whiny mother's boy”, Ares added.

Hera flushed with rage. “How dare you!”, she exclaimed, “All of you have been at the wedding of his parents! You ate, drank, danced and made music-”

“So?”, Ares said coldly, “Akhilleus is not his parents. We are not obliged to him, nor to Thetis and Peleus and _definitely_ not to _you_. Hektor respected us gods and other humans more than _he_ does.”

Hera's eyes narrowed. “That's it! I will-”

“ENOUGH!!!”, Zeus thundered and everyone fell silent.

Angrily he turned to Hera: “I've had enough of your attitude! No one here is putting Hektor and Akhilleus on the same level! And all things considered, Hektor was beloved by us. He always knew what kind of sacrifices I and all of you wished for, never failed to honour us and only gave us the best of the best. Still, stealing the body is not an option either. Bring me Thetis. She shall persuade her son to give Hektor's body up to his father.”

After Thetis had been welcomed by the gods, Zeus cut to the chase: “Let your son know, that we're angered by his behaviour. He is to return the body of Hektor to the Trojans for ransom – this is my will. He knows what happens to mortals, who do not follow it.”

Thetis nodded and returned to her son to inform him of Zeus' decree.

Later that evening Iris descended to the earth again, this time to tell Priamos, that Zeus was doing him one last favour: the returning of his son's body.

So Priamos packed rich gifts as ransom and went, but not before making a sacrifice of Zeus and venting his bitterness about how the cruelty of Ares had robbed and would keep robbing him of his loved ones.

As Zeus saw the elderly man and his aged herald cross the bloodstained plain in the darkness, he was overcome by pity. He waved Hermes over and fondly ruffled the messenger's hair.

The second youngest Olympian endured it, as always.

“My beloved son, who holds mankind dearest, guides them and listens to them. Go and escort Priamos to the Achaean ships, but make sure that no one sees him, before he stands in front of the son of Peleus.”

Hermes put on his winged sandals and staff and landed on the coast near the ships in the guise of a young soldier from Akhilleus' troops. With his staff, he lulled the Achaeans to sleep, before going to find Priamos.

As he came into the king's field of view, he could tell that the old man was frightened.

But Hermes gently took the old man's hands and asked kindly: “Who are you, sir? What are you and your companion there doing out here in the middle of the night and with so much treasure? Don't you know how dangerous that is?”

“You're right, young man”, Priamos replied, “But one god must have at least some mercy with me. It must be a good omen, that we meet you here; I can see your wisdom as well as your beauty – you must have blessed parents.”

 _That I do_ , Hermes thought fondly, but kept his focus.

“That's true. But do answer my question. Are you trying to hide them, or are you all fleeing your city in panic, because you lost your best fighter – your son Hektor, the greatest of your warriors?”

Priamos tilted his head. “How do you know about my son? Who are you?”

“One of the soldiers of Akhilleus”, Hermes fibbed, “I often saw your son on the field of glory, even when we weren't allowed to fight, because our lord wouldn't let us.”

“Really!”, the king cried hopefully, “Tell me, what happened to my son's body? Is it still intact at the ships? Akhilleus didn't … he didn't … did he …?”

“It's still intact”, the Messenger soothed him. “Nothing of the outrage it suffered by Akhilleus could damage it – if it wasn't for the wounds, one could think he's sleeping! The gods care for him even in death.”

He couldn't help but feel horrible for the sorrow-stricken old man, who nearly burst into tears at these news and who really deserved better than all this woe.

Deciding to make it quick, before the mortal's suffering could get to him, Hermes guided Priamos to Akhilleus' tent.

Once there, he revealed himself: “Now I can tell you, that I am the god Hermes. My father sent me to guide and protect you. I must stay outside, because I don't want the trouble of being seen. But listen to me: when you go in there, clasp the knees of Peleus' son and beseech him in the name of his own dear parents, if you want him to hear you.”

Akhilleus gaped in amazement, as none other than Priamos came before him.

The long-suffering king of Troy fell onto his knees in front of his greatest enemy, clasping the knees and kissing the hands of the man, who had slain his children.

After reminding him of his father Peleus, who was waiting for his son to come home, Priamos ended his plea: “Fifty sons I had, before you Achaeans came and I got to keep none of them! Most were felled by cruel Ares. And the one son I could count on, the defender of my city and its inhabitants – _oh_ _Hektor, my child_! – fell by _your_ hand. I'm here to ransom him with rich gifts. Respect the gods and think of your father. Even more than him I have a right to your mercy, because I did what no other father in the world could ever bring himself to do: I kissed the hand of the man who murdered my son.”

The sight of this old man's infinite grief and the memory of his own father, who too would never see him again, did something to Akhilleus.

There was no more wrath in him, only sadness and grief.

That and something new.

Something he had never felt before: Compassion.

Hektor's body was ransomed and returned to his people.

Even on Olympos the gods could hear the crying of the Trojans for their prince.

The people, who mourned their greatest hero.

His parents, who lost their dearest son.

His remaining siblings, who lost the brother they had looked up to.

His widow, who hadn't been able to be at her husband's side, while he was dying.

Helena, who had been taken here against her will and was now mourning the only man besides Priamos, who had treated her with kindness, the only friend she'd had here.

The Trojans keened and bewailed Hektor for ten days.

On the eleventh day he was brought to the pyre.

The smoke rose high and with it carried prayers and weeping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Naiades: river nymphs; Dryades: tree nymphs.  
> 2) Astrapaios: "Lord of Lightning", one of Zeus' epithets.  
> 3) Ennosigaios: "Shaker of the Earth", one of Poseidon's epithets.  
> 4) The surface of the sun is appr. 5000°C hot.  
> 5) In the Iliad Hektor doesn't actually respond to Akhilleus' refusal like that, but I thought that this was important to point out.


	13. The last days of the Trojan War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end phase of the Trojan War. More gods mourn their children, Akhilleus dies by Apollon's and Paris' hand, Paris is killed and Troja finally falls through the cunning of Athena's favoured hero. Ares does someone a miniscule favour and in his own way triumphs over the other gods, because in the end, this is his war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one depicts graphic depiction of violence and horrid war crimes.   
> There are details I made up, but not the crimes; they come from ancient sources.  
> So yeah  
> Tw: Graphic depiction of violence, infanticide, horrific rape, sacrilege and basically pillaging in all its terror.

Soon after Hektor's funeral, the Amazons came from Thrace to the aid of the Trojans, led by their queen Penthesileia.

Penthesileia was a daughter of Ares and the Amazon queen Otrera and had accidentally killed her beloved sister Hippolyta. And she craved only one thing: a glorious death in battle.

The Amazons were feared for their battle prowess and the Achaeans soon found out the hard way, that it hadn't been empty tales they had heard. They were small in numbers, but quickly overran the Achaean forces, until Akhilleus turned the tables.

The two demigods fought viciously, showing no mercy. The warrior queen was such a dangerous opponent, that the goddess Athena had to magically paralyse her limbs, before Akhilleus could fatally wound her with his spear.

He triumphed, but only for a few seconds; until he removed her helmet and beheld the splendour and beauty of a goddess, the charisma and strength of a daughter of Ares, that not even death could take away from her.

She was so beautiful that even his comrades and the Trojans around them stopped fighting and just marvelled at the fairness of the defeated warrior queen.

Akhilleus could practically feel, how the golden arrow of Eros pierced his heart.

Struck him with remorse and repentant love.

Made him mourn, that such perfection had to die.

It was the same intense grief he had felt, when Patroklos had died, which was strange, considering he had only known this woman for a few minutes and was currently staring at a corpse.

Still, he wondered if maybe he could have made her his queen and take her back to Phthia, where he came from.

All this happened before her father's eyes.

Ares saw his beloved daughter fall and felt like the ground was breaking away below him.

He saw Akhilleus standing over her, frozen and – Ares could tell – entranced by her unearthly beauty. Reaching out hesitantly to touch this impossibly fair face.

In a moment's notice, Ares was behind the demigod, invisible, but not inaudible, letting him feel his presence – and his anger.

“Do not touch my daughter, Peleídes”, the god of terrible war snarled into his ear.

Akhilleus pulled his hand back instantly. But he stayed where he was, staring down at Penthesileia's body.

Suddenly another Achaean opened his mouth, a really ugly fuck (Thersites, if Ares wasn't mistaken): “So the great Akhilleus is defeated by the beauty of a woman, like some ordinary skirt-chaser? Made weak by a woman, who wrought nothing but death and destruction on the Achaean army? I bet you want to strip her naked right on the battlefield and-”

He didn't get any further, because Akhilleus whirled around and sucker-punched the disgusting blusterer, killing him instantly.

“Anyone else?”, the son of Thetis asked the audience nonchalantly.

They collectively shook their heads in response, although there were a few agitated murmurs at the murder of one of their own.

But then Diomedes lifted his hand to silence them.

His bright blue eyes (so similar to those of Athena) stared right into the blood-red ones of Ares in sombre recognition. And in no way haughty or even disrespectful, just because he had been able to wound the war god once.

The Argive spoke: “Thersites had it coming and no one is going to miss him. Still, Akhilleus, you must be purified for the murder, even though you did a favour to everyone, including her divine father. Now choose wisely what to do with the Amazon queen, for I see Ares and he is enraged over his daughter's demise.”¹

Uncomfortable silence.

Then Menélaos and Agamemnon exchanged a glance and a nod of agreement.

It was red-haired Menélaos, who spoke, to one of the surviving Amazons: “Penthesileia was a great warrior and truly the child of Ares _Miaiphonos²_. Even though she was our enemy, she should not be done the outrage of being denied a proper funeral. Take her body back to Troy and bury her like the queen she was.”

“Take your fallen comrades with you. And keep her armour”, Agamemnon added, “We don't wish to incur the wrath of the fearsome _Teikhesiplêtês³_ by plundering his daughter.”

This gesture of respect was odd coming from the Achaeans, especially from the Atreides.

The god of war wasn't sure, if it could be attributed to his daughter's beauty or if his own adversary Athena had finally shown an glimpse of pity towards him and filled those simple mortal minds with respect and reverence.

It was a minuscule comfort to Ares, that his daughter's body would be treated with due respect.

But a comfort nonetheless.

Penthesileia was buried with the honours of a queen.

Priamos had her and her fallen companions laid to rest beside the tombs of his proud father, king Laomedon and his glorious son Hektor.

It was the least he could do for the radiant daughter of Ares and her companions, who had fallen in their effort to protect the Trojans, whom they had hardly known.

As Ares lingered by the side of his daughter's shroud, he met an interesting person.

He knew who she was, Apollon had often spoken of her.

“Lord Ares”, she whispered and fell onto her knees, shaking. “ _Teikhesiplêtês, Andreiphontês, Khrysopêlêx, Theos Miaiphonos, Deinos, Sunarogos Themistos_ -”⁴

“Enough”, he said calmly. “I'm not here as a god, but as a father.”

“Yes, _Ánax_ ⁵”, she answered.

“And you're Kassandra, daughter of Priamos”, he returned. “I have heard of you – the seeress, whom no one believes. Did you know, that you would meet me here?”

“Yes”, she whispered and added: “Though in my vision, you looked different. More terrifying than I can say.”

Ares smiled dryly. “So your vision showed you my true form, then. But gazing upon a god in reality would kill a mortal. When I walk the earth, I must use less frightening disguises.”

He had made himself look like an ordinary Trojan civilian, black-eyed and -haired, with dark skin. An innocuous-looking shape. One that no normal mortal would have pinned to be the war god in disguise.

“Now tell me, princess, what are you doing here?”

He hadn't meant to sound frightening, but still she trembled.

“I just came to pay my respects to your daughter Penthesileia. And to bring offerings. I didn't mean to disturb, I-”

“Sshhh. Easy, girl. I don't want to harm you.”

“The last god I encountered cursed me”, she whispered.

“I know”, Ares nodded, “But don't blame yourself. None of this shit is your fault. You didn't deserve to be cursed, just because you said no. He's a pretentious arsehole, most gods are. And on top of that he can't get over his self-esteem issues.”

She snorted.

“Besides”, he continued, “It's not certain, if you could have saved yourself and others, if they listened to you. My father wanted this entire war to happen, then your jackass half-brother Paris was dumb enough to piss off my mother and half-sister and the entirety of Hellas and then he was too egotistical to put the well-being of an entire people over his own.”

Kassandra bit her lip and he saw a few stray tears run down her cheeks.

He sighed and crouched down in front of her. “Don't blame Helene, okay? She never asked for any of this shit either. She despises Paris more than anyone.”

“I know”, she choked. “Still it's not fair! What did _we_ do to deserve this?!”

“You didn't do anything. Your ancestors screwed up and the Moirai and great Ananke are fucking bitches. I have never met either of them, but I would love to punch them in the face. Gods can't avoid their fates any more than humans can. Only the Primordials have the power to redirect the course of fate, but not even _they_ can do it without consequence”, the war god explained.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I want you to understand, that we Deathless Ones are no happier than you mortals are. We bargain, suffer and mourn. We just have all eternity to learn live with the pain. That doesn't make us happier.”

Ares sighed sadly and turned back to his daughter's shroud.

“It's a small comfort to me, that my dear daughter got the glorious battle death she wanted and the respect she deserved. Very few of my children get that luxury, ya know. They're like me, volatile and following their own laws.”

For a few moments neither of them spoke.

Then Kassandra finally approached the shroud to place down her offerings.

“She was a great woman”, she told the war god. “A true queen and warrior. You must be very proud of her.”

“I am. I really am.”

It was nothing more than a whisper.

He was Ares, god of the horrors of war, of the bloodshed, violence, murder, rage, the sacking of towns, rebellion, courage and fear.

He would _not_ fall apart and cry in front of a mortal.

Soon he had composed himself and remarked: “You're a really unfortunate creature, even for a mortal. Ya know, Kassandra, with the shit you've gone through and that's still ahead of you, I'm surprised that you haven't killed yourself.”

“That would be the easy way out.”

“But still better than what you'll get put through once Troy is conquered”, Ares pointed out.

“I know, Lord Ares”, Kassandra replied, “But I will not run away. I'm not a coward.”

“Very brave. I'm impressed. And that's rare, believe me.”

“Thank you.”

“I can't save you from your doom – fate forbids me to.”

“I know.”

“But I pity you nonetheless and because I admire your courage, I want to give you something. Don't worry, I want nothing in return.”

“I …”

“Shhh. Open your mouth and hold still.”

He cupped her face and came as close as a few centimetres.

Then he breathed into her mouth, transferred some of his essence onto her and let go.

Kassandra blinked in confusion, but also seemed relieved, that he hadn't actually kissed her.

“How are you feeling?”, Ares asked.

“Better”, she marvelled, “Refreshed … stronger. What … what did you do to me?”

The war god smiled. “I've given you a better gift than your cursed precognition: the inner strength and courage to bear all the hardships ahead of you. I can't take your pain away, but I can take your weariness. Compassion isn't my strong suit, but you and your family have treated the remains of my beloved child and her companions with highest respect. Therefore, you're worthy of mine.”

“Thank you …”, the princess choked.

He didn't hug her, when she started to sob.

But he did hold her hand as comfort.

“I can't believe you got to kiss her!”, Apollon whined later, “When I asked her for a kiss, she outright told me to get lost!”

“I didn't kiss her, dumbass!”, Ares fumed, “I breathed courage and inner strength into her, so that she can bear her suffering and her terrible fate easier! I gave her a gift that is actually good for her, _without_ asking for love or sex in return! Excuse me for not being a jerk for once in my life and pitying her more than you did! Get off my dick, Sunny Boy!”

“Why, you-!”

“He's right, you know”, Artemis threw in, “Sorry, brother, but I'm taking his side. He isn't into her and still was kinder to her than you. So leave him and her alone.”

Apollon huffed, but fell silent.

Shortly after, another deity wept for her son.

Êôs, Titanis of the dawn, was the mother of Memnon, an Ethiopian leader, who had been sent to help the Trojans. A wise and modest young man, yet a brave warrior; Êôs and Tithonos had raised him well.

He too fell against Akhilleus after a fierce duel, just like Hektor and Penthesileia before him.

The divine allies of the Achaeans cheered, especially Akhilleus' mother Thetis.

But Apollon, Artemis and Aphrodite mourned silently.

Êôs didn't care about silent.

She screamed, howled with rage, showered Thetis, Athena, Poseidon and even Zeus and Hera with profanities and curses.

She threatened to descend to the hidden depths of the netherworld and dwell with the dark Protogenoi, with holy Khaos and dark Nyx, Erebos and Tartaros and to never ascend to the skies to bring the light of day.

Zeus rose from his throne and it began to thunder outside, but Ares stepped in.

He placed his hand on her head and – Athena could see it – took away her rage, leaving only her motherly grief. Then he took everyone by surprise by embracing the dawn goddess and holding her tightly. He whispered something into her ear, she wailed loudly and cried into his shoulder.

Aphrodite looked really jealous at this display, but Apollon put a hand onto her shoulder and shook his head sombrely.

For a moment Athena was confused as to why Ares was being so tender. It was almost like he was showing sympathy …

_Oh._

Stupid her.

It _was_ sympathy.

He had lost two children and knew how she was feeling. And he sympathised particularly with Êôs' sadness, because she had once been his mistress. Because he knew that even with all her mortal affairs, she was still in love with him, albeit it was unrequited.

Athena had never felt compassion with the allies of Troy, but this got to her, almost like an epiphany.

She didn't show it, but she said nothing either.

There was nothing a virgin goddess could say to two heartbroken parents.

Apollon was the one to put Akhilleus down.

The demigod had caught a bad case of hubris and tried to break down the gates of Troy and take the city all by himself. And when Apollon had told him to cut it out, Akhilleus had given him the middle finger and told him to get out of his way.

For a god, who was lethal even from afar, this was one offence too many.

The Bringer of Plagues stepped behind Paris, who was standing on the city wall.

Whispered in his ear and guided his hand.

The arrow, dipped in the venomous wrath of the divine archer, flew and hit its mark: the only part of Akhilleus, that wasn't invulnerable.

Most people wouldn't think a shot to the heel as being really bad, but as mentioned before, the arrow had been poisoned. And it pierced a vital vein.

Akhilleus killed a few more Trojans, but he was dead in a matter of minutes.

Ajax Telamonides and Odysseus rescued the demigod's corpse from being plundered by the Trojans, but the Achaeans mourned his death for three weeks.

Apollon on the other hand was triumphant, as were the others, who shared his side. Especially Ares seemed to practically ooze with grim satisfaction at his half-brother's retribution. The war god didn't gloat or triumph aloud and in front of the other gods. He didn't have to; the twisted, grim smile on his face said it all.

Hera on the other hand was furious and showered Apollon with reproaches and insults.

The son of Leto bore it silently for a while and stubbornly stared at the floor.

But when she accused him of ingratitude, reminded him, that he had been at Thetis' wedding and claimed, that he had murdered Akhilleus out of envy, Apollon snapped.

“SHUT THE TARTAROS UP!!!”, he roared, “HE HAS OFFENDED ME MULTIPLE TIMES, MURDERED TWO OF MY SONS – ONE OF THEM IN FRONT OF MY ALTAR NO LESS, AND HE WAS STILL A _CHILD_! – KILLED A DAUGHTER OF _YOUR_ SON ARES AND A SON OF ÊÔS AND TRIED TO TEAR DOWN TROY BY HIMSELF, SO THE ACHAEANS CAN COMMIT THE WORST WAR CRIMES!!! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU EXPECT??? THAT I WOULD GIVE A FUCK, JUST BECAUSE I WAS AT HIS MOTHER'S WEDDING?! IT WAS AN HONOUR _WE_ DID TO _HER_ , NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND! WE OWE HER NOTHING! AND WE CERTAINLY DON'T OWE RESPECT TO THAT SHITFACE OF A HERO, WHO DOESN'T DESERVE ANY OF IT! YOU DON'T KNOW HOW IT FEELS TO LOSE A CHILD!!! GET OFF MY FUCKING BACK, YOU – YOU …!!!”

“Shhh! Easy!”, Aphrodite hushed him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Don't stoop so low as to throw petty insults. Your father's anger isn't worth it. And neither is she.”

She threw a hateful glare at Hera.

Ares placed a hand on his other shoulder and turned to Zeus: “Father, with your permission we'll see ourselves out.”

His father consented: “That would be wise. And Apollon, even though you're right with what you say, you must show respect to my wife. Remember that for the future.”

Apollon bit his lip, but nodded.

Artemis took her brother's hand and together with Ares and Aphrodite they left the assembly.

“I'm sorry for lashing out at your mother like that”, Apollon apologised as soon as the four were alone in the garden.

“Don't mind that”, the war god muttered, “Normally I'd be pissed, but you were right with everything you said. She's been nothin' but a bitch in the last decades. I'm mad at her anyway, for all the times she sicced Daddy's Owl on me. My mother is faithful to my father, but the price for that is, that she doesn't know parental grief. You know her. One day she's the perfect mother and the next day she's the worst. An' yeah, sure, Thetis suffers, but we all suffer more and it's partly the fault of her son – the rest is the fault of the other Achaeans.”

“Can I ask you something?”, Artemis inquired.

Ares nodded. “Sure.”

“How much do you really know?”

He gawked at her in amazement.

Then he laughed, for the first time since Penthesileia's death. “Ya know, you're the first person ever to ask me that! _Ever!_ And I'm, like, 38 000 years old!”

“… That's depressing.”

“Yeah, but I'm used to it.”

“That's even more depressing!”

Ares grinned. “An' that's why we're friends! Hey, guys, wanna get plastered?”

Artemis shrugged: “Sure, I'm game.”

Apollon smiled weakly: “Me too. I really need a drink.”

Aphrodite chuckled: “Absolutely! Let's get roaring drunk at Dionysos' bar and talk about the future and the good ol' days!”

They spent the rest of the day and night doing exactly that.

Meanwhile in the assembly hall, the other Olympians sat in silence at the scene that just had occurred.

Until Zeus turned to his wife and rebuked her: “Not Apollon's wrath brought Akhilleus low, but his own hubris. He brought this upon himself. As the god of law I can't and won't make exceptions, not even for Thetis. I value her more than anyone, but that doesn't change the fact, that her son was ill-bred. After all the offences he committed towards gods and mortals alike, it would have been extremely unjust to grant him a longer life span. Why would I spare him, when I couldn't spare the children of mine and of Poseidon, Ares, Apollon, or Êôs? There is nothing more to say, Hera. He was fated to die and that's that. Be quiet.”

Hera fumed and was about to make a retort, but Athena put a hand on her shoulder.

“Let's not fight pointlessly”, the goddess of wisdom said. “Instead, let us attend Akhilleus' funeral, for the sake of Thetis.”

“And that of your _friends_ Odysseus and Diomedes?”, Poseidon teased.

Athena glared at him. “Shut up.”

Thetis was relentless in her grief for her fallen son.

Her sisters came to her son's funeral to wail with her.

Even the Mousai came to attend and sing for the Nereid's sake.

“Damn Zeus”, the sea goddess wailed, “Damn him, damn him, damn him! He forced me to marry a mortal man against my will and gave my son – the only comfort of my unwanted fate – a short life span, while at the same time promising me, that he would gain everlasting fame! What do I care about glory, now that I had to bury my son, while he was still young! To Tartaros with all of them! When the other gods bound him, it was me who saved him and in return I had to endure all of this?! What did I do to deserve this! I will go up to Olympos and remind him of all the things I have done for him and all the things I had to go through, because of his ingratitude, so that he might be ashamed-”

“Shut up.”

Everyone whirled around and in amazement stared at Kalliope, the Mousa of epic poetry.

She was frowning, but as she continued, her voice was gentle: “Don't be so foolish as to invoke the wrath of both gods and men. You're not the only one suffering. Kronion too had to see his dear sons suffer and die, without being able to save them. Herakles became a god, but only after endless torment. I had to endure many pains for the sake of my son Orpheus, only to see him die in a most cruel manner, torn apart by the Bakkhai. Several of the Dodekatheoi are mourning for their children, who fell in this cruel and pointless war – some of them were felled by _your_ son. Be as tactful to them as you expect them to be with you. Troy will soon fall, just like your son, that is the decree of the incorruptible and unyielding Moirai. As for Akhilleus: as long as civilization exists, he will be remembered in song, poetry and stories – he will not be forgot by mankind. So great is his glory. That shall be your comfort.”

Then Helios descended from the sky and primordial Nyx brought darkness and the relief of her gentle son Hypnos.

During the funeral games for Akhilleus, Athena had interfered several times, to the favour of her dear favourite Odysseus.

In the end, he had even won the armour of the great hero, that Hephaistos had made for Akhilleus, before he had gone to slay Hektor.

The other contender had been Ajax the Greater, who had been so furious at his loss, that he had plotted Odysseus' demise.

Athena admitted, that he'd had a right to the armour just as much as Odysseus, but still she couldn't let him slay one of her favourite heroes, so she had struck him with madness.

When Ajax came to his senses and realised, that he had killed a whole flock of sheep in his attempt to kill those who had wronged him, he was filled with deep despair.

After a tearful goodbye to his concubine and son, he threw himself into his own sword.

Agamemnon and Menélaos had wanted to deny the almost-murderer a proper burial.

But Odysseus, ridden by conscience and fear of the gods, had reminded them, that Ajax had been a great hero and a great support to the Achaeans against the Trojans. And besides, disrespecting the dead meant disrespecting the gods.

The Atreides were surprised at Odysseus generosity, but wouldn't object to his reasoning.

“I hated him as long as it was appropriate”, the wily king of Ithaka explained, “But now that he's dead, I have no reason to hold grudges. Besides, it _is_ my fault that he lost it.”

He turned towards Ajax' family: “I promise, that you will not be scorned or mistreated, because of his mistake. If you want, I can help you bury him too-”

“No thank you”, Teukros declined flatly, “My brother's spirit is likely still angry at you, so he wouldn't want it. I will do it alone – it's all I _can_ do, because I can't return home without him. But we appreciate the support.”

Athena had revealed to Odysseus and the seer Kalkhas how they would gain the final victory over the Trojans.

So they had enlisted the help of Akhilleus' teenage son Pyrrhos (or Neoptolemos, as he was also called) and of Philoktetes, an archer, whom they had abandoned of an island before the war, because he had been incapacitated by a snake bite, which had given off an unbearable stench, as well as mortal agony. But he wasn't just any archer; he owned a very special bow – the very weapon that once had belonged to the great Herakles. The then mortal hero had gifted it to him, along with the poisoned arrows, as reward for lighting his funeral pyre to relieve his suffering.

Neoptolemos had been easy to persuade, but Philoktetes had only buried his righteous grudge after the now deified Herakles had appeared before his old friend to reveal his destiny and his role in the end of the war. Now he had calmed down and agreed to help, much to the delight of the Achaeans.

The unerring arrows of Herakles, dipped in the Hydra's venom, felled many Trojans, but they weren't too important.

The only one whose death mattered was Paris, who had caused this entire war and brought unending suffering over both sides.

He was wounded by two of the poisoned arrows and in desperation dragged himself to his ex-wife Oinone, an Oreade and great healer, to save him. But Oinone, still hurt that he had dumped her for Helene, told him to go and fuck himself.

And so Paris died a long, agonising but well-deserved death.

Overcome with remorse, Oinone built him a funeral pyre and jumped into the flames to die with him. She had been the only one to whole-heartedly mourn this ominous man.

The Trojans mourned him as a formality, but in truth no one was really sad as he had been hated by all.

Helene of Sparta wept, but not for him; she cried for things that had been out of her power and because she was now forced to marry Paris' brother Deiphobos, who was just as unpleasant.

She refused to share his bed; that man was no match for a daughter of Zeus.

Instead she sneaked out and wandered the streets, homesick and wishing she was dead or better yet, could turn back time and stop all this from happening.

She was wandering through a dark alley, when she came across two beggars.

“Mild alms, kind lady”, the shorter one rasped.

Pitying him, she took off the golden armlet she was wearing and gave it to him.

But then their eyes met and she recognised him, of course she did; she would have recognised those sly, knowing mossy green eyes anywhere.

“Odysseus!!!”

“Shhhh!”, he hissed. “Be quiet, Helene! Do you want to get us killed?!”

“Sorry”, she whispered. “Wait, Diomedes?! You're here too?! How did you two get in? What are you doing here?”

“How we got in here doesn't matter”, Diomedes grumbled, “As for why we're here, how can we trust you not to rat us out? You abandoned your husband and daughter twenty years ago, not to mention-”

“I didn't abandon them!”, she lamented, “I was abducted by Aphrodite and Paris! And here in Troy I have been met with scorn and animosity from everyone except Priamos and Hektor, but he's dead! I hate being responsible for all of this! You have no idea how often I have wished, I … I … I just want to go home! I miss Sparta, I miss Menélaos and I miss Hermione! I … I never got to see her grow up!”

“Don't cry”, Odysseus told her in a gentler tone, “I miss my wife and son too. I too want to go home to Ithaka, spend the rest of my days at Penelope's side and see my son grow into a fine man. I know how you feel, trust me. And if you help us, we can finally end this damn war and get out of here.”

“How is Menélaos?”, Helene inquired.

“He's fine”, Diomedes said, “As brash and volatile as ever. I'll be honest with you, he's furious at you. But I'm sure he'll change his mind as soon as he sees you again.”

Helene smiled drily: “Then my cursed beauty would be useful for once in my life. But still, why are you here?”

In the end, she assisted them in stealing the Palladion by showing them the way and helping them get out unseen.

As they said their goodbyes, Helene took off the locket she was wearing.

“Menélaos gave it to me”, she said gently. “Tell him, that I have kept it for all these years. It was the only thing I had left of him and my home.”

The giant wooden horse had been Odysseus' idea.

In retrospect, he couldn't believe it hadn't come to him sooner.

But that didn't matter now. They had a city to conquer.

It took several weeks to build the horse and a few days to select the warriors that were to hide inside the hollow structure.

But someone had to trick the Trojans into taking the horse into their city.

The man chosen for this task was Sinon, a cousin of Odysseus and equally sly dog. He had them whip him and then they dragged the horse in front of the city gate. There the poser claimed, that the horse was dedicated to Athena as penance for the theft of the Palladion and that they had tried to sacrifice him, but he had got away.

It worked.

The Trojans tore off a part of their impenetrable city wall, because the wooden horse was too big for the gates. After that they pulled it into their city, not suspecting that it was hiding a bunch of Achaean warriors.

Princess Kassandra and the priest Laokoon warned, that it was a ruse, but no one believed Kassandra and Laokoon was quickly silenced by Athena, who sent a pair of serpents to kill him and his sons.

Kassandra grabbed a torch and was about to set the horse on fire and kill the Achaeans inside, but was held back by the Trojans – much to the relief of the hidden warriors.

They waited until nightfall, until most Trojans were asleep.

Then Sinon gave the signal to the troops waiting outside, the contingent hidden inside the horse crept outside and the massacre began.

“Regretting your support yet?”, Apollon asked frostily. “Or are you actually proud of the Achaeans' poor conduct?”

“What do you mean?”, Hera frowned.

Now Ares stepped forward. He was holding a huge scroll, probably metres long.

“Glad you ask!”, he sneered. “Do ya know what I have here?”

Everyone but Zeus, Apollon and Thémis (she was here too) shook their heads.

The war god smiled coldly: “As Zeus' heir, one of the duties I have is looking through my father's mail. It's a real nightmare, but sometimes it _does_ come in handy. This is a list of complaints and revenge prayers, mostly about certain members of the Achaeans. If I read ya the entire list, we'd be here all night. So I'll give you a summary. Starting with Agamemnon: blasphemy against several gods, sacrileges, attempted murder of his own daughter and human sacrifice towards Artemis, offence of a priest of Apollon, offence of a demigod, violation of the laws of hospitality, murder. Akhilleus: rape, violation of the laws of hospitality, blasphemy against several gods, murder of several other demigods, attacking of a god. Diomedes: physical harm of several gods, attacking of a god, attempted murder of a demigod. Odysseus: attempted perjury, judicial murder …”

_How dare he talk shit about Diomedes and Odysseus!_

Ares probably guessed what she was thinking, but didn't show it.

With a scoff he looked over his fellow gods. “You didn't expect that, did ya? That I keep track of everyone's bullshit? Y'all keep forgetting, that aside from terrible war, I'm also a god of civil disturbance, crime and order. But ya know what? Why waste the night by rattlin' down this huge ass scroll? Why don't we just look at what's goin' on right now and let that speak for itself? Father, may I?”

“You may”, Zeus consented.

Ares threw a red ball of light at the ceiling, opening a screen of what was happening in Troy.

Several of the gods gasped.

The war god had finally stopped smirking and was arching an eyebrow at the scene.

“They're really goin' at it, aren't they? Pretty poor sportsmanship, eh?”

“Silence!”, Zeus ordered.

His eyes were wide with appal, as he stared at one particular scene:

Hektor's widow Andromákhe was fleeing from Neoptolemos, son of Akhilleus, with her infant son Astyanax in her arms, but he quickly caught up to them. What the young man did then was terrible: he brutally ripped the child out of his mother's arms and pierced him with his sword. Andromákhe's anguished screams were so heart-wrenching, that even Poseidon averted his eyes.

Apollon furiously pointed at that scene: “Look at this! Aren't you so proud?! Some fine grandson Thetis got there! He's even worse than his father! He just brutally murdered an _infant_! A defenceless little child and tore him out of his mother's arms!”

“Shut y-”, Hera started, but then Zeus cried out: “Oh my me!”

Neoptolemos had entered one of Zeus' temples and found king Priamos, seeking shelter at the altar together with a few others. Priamos stepped in front of his wife and the others to at least try to protect them and scolded the young man for his impiety. But Neoptolemos, still holding the corpse of Astyanax, clubbed the old man to death with it in front of the horrified onlookers.⁶

Zeus looked like he wanted to puke.

Athena felt like puking too. This was just …

But before she could end that thought, Ares sneered: “Pretty inhuman, that boy. How old is he, _fifteen_? Most boys at that age go to school or learn a craft, play silly games and dream of silly things. And _he's_ beating an old man to death with a child's corpse at father's altar! Good thing his grandmother isn't here – oh great, it gets worse!”

“ _Worse_???”, Poseidon responded incredulously, “What could be a worse crime than-?”

A piercing scream cut him off.

The focus had shifted to a different scene.

They saw Ajax the Lesser enter a temple of Athena, where he found princess Kassandra clinging to a statue of the goddess.

Athena blanched and burst into tears at what happened next.

Even Ares squeezed his eyes shut, as the Lokrian committed the one crime he considered unforgivable (and it wasn't sacrilege).

“Abominable”, he snarled. “Some hero, that. Of all the war crimes he could have committed, it had to be the worst one, the one even I can't stand … and you call _me_ barbaric.”

He turned to Athena and she loathed his pitying expression.

“Tell me, Daddy's Owl, is that how you define 'war for a just cause' or 'justice in war'? Where is the heroism, the virtue and sense of honour you always talk about? Does this correspond with your idealism, if the side you support rears its ugly head like that? Is this what you're willing to tolerate, as long as your side wins? I'll repeat Apollon's question from earlier: are you proud, Daddy's Owl? _Are_ you?”

“Shut up!”, she howled and cried into her hands.

Poseidon gently touched her arm and tried to give his niece at least a modicum of comfort, but there was nothing that could console Athena now.

And to her distress Ares went on, this time addressing Hera: “And you, mother? Do you feel proud and triumphant? Do you condone all of this, just because that moron Paris didn't pick _you_ to be the fairest? The extent of your pettiness and spite are truly pathetic. Rejoice all you want, but your victory is hollow.”

“That's enough”, Zeus _finally_ told him. “No more of your taunting, Ares. No one is the victor in this war, just like you wanted. The Achaeans have won, but their divine allies haven't. As for you, this is your war now and the mortals are under your cruel sway, but you had to bear too great losses for this to be worth it, for this to satisfy you.”

“No”, Ares agreed. “We both have always known, that it wasn't worth it. Then again, father, this was your will, wasn't it? You pulled the strings through all of this, like the manipulator you are. And yet, even _you_ lose, even you suffer. Not even you saw this coming, even you can't bear this and that is the price you pay for allowing this to happen. This is _my_ definition of justice. Because I'm right and you all know it, that's one of the reasons why you hate me. How does it feel to finally have to face the fact, that you're all terrible people, just like me?”

Now he finally ended his sardonic speech and turned to leave. “Either way, I have no more business here. I'll pack my things and leave Olympos. My work won't be needed anytime soon, so I'll go back to Thrake and then maybe see the world. Enjoy the next centuries of relative peace and recovery for mankind.”

No one stopped him, as he grabbed his cloak and strode out of the hall with his head held high.

It seemed like an eternity, until the ensuing silence was broken.

Poseidon was the one who did: “Zeus, I don't think they deserve a full victory. Only those who are granted a triumphant return are truly victorious. And I don't think they have earned the right to come home in triumph or even at all.”⁷

Zeus agreed: “No, they really haven't. I hereby decree, that only those who have acted honourably and with piety will be granted a safe and triumphant homecoming and a good life for the rest of their days.”

“… Revenge.”

The King of the Skies blinked. “What was that, my daughter?”

Athena lowered her hands.

Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, her cheeks flushed with shame and fury and her face was a hideous grimace of unbridled hatred.

“Revenge”, she snarled, “I want _revenge_!”

She stared at the scene on the screen, which was still on the ceiling.

The Achaeans were currently failing to punish Ajax for his sacrilege, despite Odysseus' fierce demand to have him stoned to death to appease the wrathful goddess.

“LET ME DESTROY THEM!”, Athena roared all of the sudden, terrifying everyone, “LET ME DESTROY AJAX, HIS BAND AND ALL THOSE WHO DIDN'T PUNISH HIM!!! I WON'T HAVE A MOMENT'S REST, BEFORE I HAVE SEEN THIS DISGUSTING BASTARD SUFFER AND PERISH AT MY OWN HANDS!!! LET ME HAVE RETRIBUTION, FATHER! GIVE ME JUSTICE!!!”

“You shall have it”, Zeus pacified her, “Take my lightning bolts, my armour and my sceptre. This once, the sky, the winds and storms shall obey your command. Unleash your wrath and avenge all offences to your heart's content.”

Poseidon stepped forward. “The sea shall assist you as well”, he spoke grimly, “For I too am angered and only seeing them drown after a helpless struggle can appease me now.”

He chuckled coldly: “Ares was right; we really are terrible people. But so were they and I don't see why we should let them get away with it.”

“We won't”, Zeus assured him. “ _I_ won't.”

It's said, that the sea is a cruel mistress.

And that she never releases, what she claims.

That was certainly true for the Lord of the Sea.

Even the greatest fleet of ships was nothing more than a bunch of tiny papyrus boats on Thalassa's⁸ seemingly endless surface, small and breakable.

The Lord of the Deep and the Bright-eyed Goddess easily tore them to shreds in their relentless wrath.

Many of their crew drowned, but most importantly the one who had desecrated the sacred ground of Athena with the vilest of crimes.

Some were favoured for good conduct and reached their homes quickly and safely.

Some came home only to find nasty surprises waiting there.

Then there were those, who only came home after years of troublesome journey, because one or the other god was wroth, but not enough to outright kill them.

One of the last ones was favoured by Athena and his name would be known by his insanely long journey home:

Odysseus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) According to one source, Diomedes throws a hissy fit, disrespects Penthesileia's corpse and is ready to throw hands with Akhilleus, because Thersites is a cousin of his. But this makes no sense for a lot of reasons (like Thersites being a common soldier, while Diomedes is one of the Argive leaders), so I ignored that version and decided to make him more sensible than that. I went with the version, which is most detailed, but doesn't mention anything of this. I also decided to let him keep the magical sight Athena gave him, so he always recognises a god, when he sees one.  
> 2) Miaiphonos: "Blood-Stained One / Defiled with gore or murder"  
> 3) Teikhesiplêtês: "Stormer of Cities / Stormer of Walls"  
> 4) "Stormer of Cities, Destroyer of Men, Of The Golden Helmet, Blood-Stained God, Terrible One, Ally of Thémis"   
> (Yes, this was my excuse to list as many epithets as decently possible. Haven't you realised already, that I love doing that? XD)  
> 5) Ánax: "Lord, King"  
> 6) I'm not making this up! There are a lot of depictions on ancient Greek pottery, depicting Priamos' death like that, or as similarly brutal.  
> 7) This is an actual concept: One important part of a war is the return home afterwards (Nostos). Only a triumphant return would make the victory truly complete.  
> 8) Thalassa: The primordial personification of the sea's surface. A daughter of Aither (the bright, upper air) and Hemera (the day) and the spouse of Pontos, the primordial deep sea.


	14. The Odyssey, Pt. 01

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I PROMISED someone, that I would include the Odyssey into my story as well and not including it would also be unfair, since it's one of the most important works of the ancient Greek culture.  
> I decided to write it in the exact order the book itself is written, rather than in chronological order.

Zeus was doing his correspondence.

He was also mentally cursing himself for allowing Ares to go on his world trip.

The war god, who was always written off as stupid and incompetent had been a big help with the mail, but now Zeus was submerging in a sea of prayers, letters from both his own pantheon and from abroad, and complaints. Complaints en masse.

“ _'You won't be needing me',_ he said _, 'That stuff is really easy',_ he said! _”_ , Zeus grumbled irritably.

Then there was a knock on the door.

“Enter!”

It was Athena, who came in.

Zeus stood up. “My little Owl-Eye! So good to see you!”

Athena looked around, assessed the situation in one glance and grinned: “Too much paper stuff?”

“Too much paper stuff”, he confirmed.

“If I help you with all of that, will you let Odysseus finally return home?”

Zeus laughed heartily: “I was going to do that anyway! But how could I possibly refuse that offer?”

Athena beamed at him.

Cute.

After doing the majority of her father's paper stuff and questioning how Ares with his lack of tact had done this all those millennia, Athena wasted no time in descending down to earth and onto Ithaka.

She had to take a look at the situation there – and to see, if the son of Odysseus was any good.

In the shape of an old friend of Odysseus' she went up to the palace.

Even from the outside, she could hear a lot of noise.

_What the Tartaros is going on in there?_

As she came into the yard, she saw strangers – probably the suitors of Penelope – playing boardgames to waste their time, sitting on the skins of bovines they had slaughtered and generally living the high life consuming the wealth of another, like parasites.

Soon she was noticed and approached by a young man with chestnut brown hair.

The sharp green eyes, so much like those of Odysseus, gave away who he was.

“Welcome, welcome!”, Telemakhos exclaimed, “Do come in, our respected guest! We shall give you the best we have to offer! And after you have eaten and refreshed yourself, tell us what brings you here.”

Athena could tell, that the young man was miserable at the situation, but he didn't show it.

He was nothing but polite and respectful towards his guest and readied her a place apart from all the insolent suitors.

“I don't assume you want to eat with this noisy crew”, he commented.

“No, I prefer to eat and drink in peace.”

Just a few moments later, the suitors came in, rude and hubristic as they apparently always were.

They were served and then forced a musician to sing for them. The man glared at them hatefully, but began to sing beautifully.

Telemakhos looked pained and murmured to the disguised Athena: “Would you lend me your ear?”

“Of course.”

“I hate this. I hate how these people consume the goods of another without care or compensation, while my mother and I mourn my dear father, who is most likely dead, even though some say that he'll come back one day. But our hope is dwindling from day to day. And we can't even give him an honourable burial, because his bones are probably lying on the bottom of the sea, where the salt water washes and bleaches them. But tell me, stranger, who are you, which family and what home do you come from?”

“My name is Mentor, son of Anchialos and Lord of Taphos. I'm a good friend of your father's and our fathers were friends before us (you can ask Laertes, I heard he lives away from here out of shame). I'm on my way to Temesa to trade precious metals and tissue. I wanted to pay you a visit, because I heard that your father was home. But apparently he's not. But I'm certain he's not dead either; perhaps some brutal and savage tribe is holding him captive and keeping him from coming home. Now I'm not a prophet, but I know for certain, that the Deathless Ones will grant him a safe homecoming soon. He won't stay away from home for much longer, I'm sure. But what about you? Are you really his son? You have his eyes, you do. I may not have seen him in over twenty years, but his face was hardly one I could forget!”

“He _is_ my father”, Telemakhos sighed, “But I wish that rather instead of such an unfortunate man it was one, who could be here with his family, growing old in peace in his own land.”

Athena pitied the young man, but had to keep her act up.

“Now, now. Your family was made for glory and you're no different, I can tell. But tell me, what is this celebration here for? Those men there certainly don't obey the laws of hospitality, uncouth and shamefully as they're acting. Any sensible man would be ashamed.”

Telemakhos frowned – just the way his father always did.

“I'm not going to lie: there must have been a time, when this was an honest household, wealthy and abundant, while its master was still here. But just a few years ago, the entire noble population of this one and the surrounding islands have come to woo my mother and now they're feeding off our property. We can't get rid of them, they won't leave until my mother marries one of them. She loathes the idea, but she can't offend them by refusing outright, so she's putting them off for as long as she can. Meanwhile these parasites are eating my reserves and sooner or later they will surely kill me.”

“Mentor” was indignant. “By the gods, you really need Odysseus back home! Would he come through this door in full armour and make short work of them! Oh, for them to be taken by dark _Soteira_ ¹ and rot in the underworld!”

“I wish”, the young man muttered.

But the disguised goddess continued: “But it's all in the hand of the gods, whether he will come home and have bloody revenge. For now, this is my counsel, from an old friend to a young one: summon the council of the island, tell the suitors to leave and your mother, if she chooses to marry, to return to the home of her father, for a dower to be prepared. As for yourself, prepare a good ship with twenty rowers and travel abroad to inquire about the whereabouts of your glorious father. First travel to Pylos and ask Nestor and if he can't help you out, move on to Sparta, to the court of Menélaos – he came home last, as far as I know. Should they give you hope, that your father is still alive, hang in there for another year. Should you hear, that he's dead, make a burial mount for him, with many gifts, as is appropriate. Then eliminate all those insolent suitors. Haven't you heard of how Orestes gained glory by slaying the murderer of his father Agamemnon? You're no longer a child, you're a grown handsome man. Hesitate not. Defend your honour, so that future generations may speak well of you. But I must leave now – surely my crew is getting impatient down at the harbour!”

Telemakhos smiled warmly (that was his mother's smile): “Thank you for your advice, kind old man. But won't you stay just a little longer? You're my guest, how could I possibly let you go without a gift? A precious and pretty one-”

“I'm afraid I really have no time”, she chuckled, “But I will come back and till then chose a really beautiful guest gift! It will be returned with one of equal worth.”

Then she turned into a small owl and flew out of the window, leaving behind a stunned Telemakhos.

Meanwhile Hermes had made his way to Ogygia, the island of Kalypso.

The nymph welcomed him and served him nectar and ambrosia and wanted to know, what he was here for.

Hermes, now refreshed, briefed her on the situation: “The King of the Gods has sent me to let you know his will. We happen to know, that you're keeping a poor man, who has been away from home for twenty years. Ten years he spent in the land of the Trojans, three lost at sea and seven years he has been languishing here, pining for home. This is the will of His Majesty: for this mortal to finally get home to his family, to reclaim his home and embrace his wife and son again. That is his lot, not to vegetate here, far away from his loved ones.”

Kalypso blanched and her eyes filled with tears.

“This … this is not fair! Why won't the gods allow, that a goddess may be happy with a mortal? Êôs loved Orion, only for him to die by the hands of golden-throned Artemis! Demeter loved Iasion, only for him to be hit by the Thunderer's lightning bolts! I saved this man, hosted and fed him, offered him immortality, so he would never grow old and die-”

“Êôs and Demeter were loved back”, Hermes countered, “Odysseus isn't happy with you. We see this man weeping on the strand day after da. Not every mortal wants immortality, Kalypso. Immortality is no blessing for a mortal, even though a lot of people think that. Odysseus needs his family and they need him. Let him go. Don't risk the anger of the King of the Gods.”

The nymph choked back a sob, but nodded.

Poseidon was returning from a party in Ethiopia, when he spotted something he did _not_ like: his nemesi- er, the mortal he hated, merrily rowing on the surface of his sea on a raft with provisions.

Within seconds he put two and two together: the other gods must have decided for Odysseus to be allowed to go home, while he had been away.

“Well, I'm not letting him off easy”, Poseidon grumbled and unleashed a mighty storm, house-high waves, deadly currents and all.

Odysseus clung to his raft, as it was thrown back and forth by the waves and realised, that he was likely going to drown.

“Aw, shit!”, he muttered and held on tighter, because there was no way he would accept a death as inglorious as drowning.

But as he was clinging to his wooden raft, he soon saw the foam on one of the waves shift into the shape of a woman.

That was Leukothea, formerly Ino, the daughter of Kadmos and Harmonia and aunt of Dionysos, who had been deified by Poseidon, many centuries ago.

She pitied the struggling mortal thrown around by the raging sea.

“Poor man” she spoke, “What have you done to provoke the merciless wrath of Poseidon, that he wants to drown you so badly? But fear not, I'm here to help you. Listen: take off your clothes and everything that drags you down, then tie my scarf around your chest – it will save you from drowning. Once you have reached dry land, give it back to me.”

She handed him a silken scarf and dived back into the waves.

Odysseus frowned. _Why would I need this, when I have a raft?_

Right in that moment, said raft was torn apart by a particularly huge wave.

_Never mind._

He did as the marine goddess had told him and took to swimming.

In the meantime Poseidon retired to his crystal palace on the bottom of the sea.

Odysseus spent the next two days fighting against the raging sea, trying to finally reach the shore.

All the while, Athena was with him, never once taking her protection away.

She stilled the winds and gave him the strength to swim long enough to reach the shore of the land of the Phaiakoi.

The long-suffering hero finally found a piece of strand, crawled onto the shore and fainted.

When he came to himself, he took off the anti-drowning-scarf and threw it back into the sea, back to its owner.

Then he turned his back onto the water, stumbled further inland and crawled under a bush.

Exhausted, hurting everywhere and too tired to do anything, he fell into a healing, restful slumber.

Athena meanwhile entered the sleep of Nausikaa, the princess of this land, disguised as one of her friends. She inspired her to go out in the morning to do her laundry with her maids and maybe play at ball and Nausikaa woke up, resolved to do just that.

Odysseus woke up to women's screaming.

He crawled out from under this bush, covered his private parts with a leafy branch and went to investigate.

Soon he came across a group of ladies, apparently looking for something.

When they saw him, they screamed and fled, all except for one.

She didn't seem to be afraid at all.

And perhaps she could help him.

So the former hero cleared his throat and with many a flattery asked her for help.

The lady introduced herself as princess Nausikaa of the Phaiakoi and gave him some of her father's clothes she and her maids had been washing earlier.

Once washed and finally dressed, he could feel a divine presence cast a spell on him.

When he stepped back in front of Nausikaa, he guessed that Athena had made him look younger and more stately than he actually was, because the princess proclaimed her hope to have a bridegroom as regal and handsome as himself.

Then she pointed him a way to the city, while she left for some place else.

One of her maids guided him and instructed him on how he should come to the king and queen to plead for hospitality.

He did as told and they received him kindly.

Next morning, king Alkinoos called an assembly of the local nobility, introduced them to this stranger and informed him of his request.

They marvelled at the newcomer, whom Athena had given godlike beauty, so that he would find approval and be liked by the people here.

“This stranger – I don't know who he is – has been stranded here and beseeches me for help to return to his homeland”, Alkinoos explained. “No supplicant has ever asked us in vain for safe transport. So let's ready a ship and rowers and let him go where he wishes to, as soon as possible. But first we should host him according to the laws of hospitality. Let a great feast be prepared and summon our best musician.”

This was done and not much later, the entire nobility was gathered in his hall to feast.

Demodokon, the blind singer, entertained them with his beautiful music and sung of the glory of the Achaeans in the Trojan War.

The musical reminder of the events made Odysseus upset and he pulled the cloak he was wearing over his face, so no one saw him cry.

Next was a small tournament.

The young Phaiakoi competed in all kinds of sports.

Odysseus was feeling too gloomy to participate in discus throwing, but when one of the young men provoked him and questioned his masculinity, he got so angry that he grabbed the biggest, heaviest discus at hand and threw it much farther than all the others.

“As you can see”, he turned to the stunned Phaiakoi, “I'm more than adept in the art of war and battle. If any of you wants to challenge me in another discipline, I'm more than confident, that I can best them. Except when it comes to running, as my leg muscles are out of shape.”

Alkinoos quickly pacified his guest and called to music and dance.

Odysseus marvelled at the dancing skills of the Phaiakoi, at the gracefulness of their movements and how their feet practically flew across the dance floor.

The singer Demodokon sang about the love of Ares and Aphrodite and of how her then husband Hephaistos had caught them in his golden net.

A pair of dancers performed a rhythmic ball play and everyone clapped along to the beat.

Odysseus turned to Alkinoos: “You praised your people as the best of dancers and it's really true! The sight astonishes me.”

That pleased the king and he ordered for rich guest presents to be given to the flatterer.

The man, who had provoked Odysseus earlier, gave him a reconciliatory gift (an iron sword² with a silver handle and ivory sheath) and an apology, which the older man gladly accepted and wished him, that he would never regret having given his sword away.

Evening came and after a nice bath Odysseus went to join another banquet, which was about to take place.

On the way he met Nausikaa and they bid each other farewell, as only men were allowed at the Symposion.³

As all men sat down to eat, Odysseus cut off a good piece of his meat and offered it to the grateful singer as a token of appreciation.

Demodokon continued his earlier song about the heroic deeds of the Achaeans in the Trojan War. Odysseus requested: “You sing so beautifully and accurately of those events! But now sing of the wooden horse! Sing of the thing that Epeios built with Athena's aid and which was brought to Troy, filled by Odysseus with warriors to raze Troy to the ground! If you can do that, I would be forever grateful!”

The singer did so and everyone was captivated.

But the memory made the war veteran weep bitterly.

When Alkinoos saw this, he ordered Demodokon to stop and asked Odysseus what the matter was.

“Also”, he added, “I still don't know who you are. What's your name, your family and the name of your home? Were you there in Troas or did you lose someone dear to you in this terrible war? A family member, a comrade or a friend?”

The other man wiped his tears away and stood up.

“I am Odysseus, son of Laertes, who beguiles men with cunning and beautiful words, whose fame reaches to the skies. I come from the bountiful island of Ithaka and I couldn't possibly think of a sweeter sight than my own home.”

The whole room was silent, as everyone stared at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Soteira: "Saviour", an epithet to many goddesses. In this case a euphemistic epithet of Persephone.  
> 2) The Trojan War is supposed to have taken place in about the 13th or 12th century BC, which was still in the bronze age. So an iron weapon was something special. Iron was hard to forge, because it requires a higher temperature than copper and tin (the components of bronze), but it's also tougher than bronze. Therefore it was in high demand and it would stay that way, during the iron age and beyond. But because it was harder to work with and for other reasons, it was a lot more expensive than bronze.  
> 3) The Symposion (a banquet with music, dance and philosophical discussions) was for men only. Ancient Greek misogyny, everyone. -_-


	15. The Odyssey, Pt. 02

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odysseus tells the Phaiakoi of his trials and they escort him back home. There he finds Athena, who promises him help.

Odysseus continued: “Now that you know this, you're probably wondering how I got into this situation. So I will tell you also of my many troubles, that in the end have brought me here.

It all started at the sacking of Troy and the surrounding area.

I insisted, that we should leave immediately after winning the war.

But Agamemnon, master of bad decisions, and a majority of his army, refused, continuing the sacking, partying and getting drunk and making sacrifices that couldn't appease the angered gods anymore. A retaliatory force coming to the aid of the surviving Trojans overwhelmed us and killed many of the Achaeans, who had survived the war. In addition Zeus' wrath came upon us and a large part of the fleet was wrecked in a storm. My ships and men survived, albeit damaged, but we were brought off course and sent adrift on the sea, all the while mourning those of our men, who had fallen against the Kykones.

After a few days we drifted to the island of the Lotophages¹.

They were friendly and meant well, but the Lotos they shared with us was apparently a hallucinogen, because it clouded the senses of my men to the point where I forcefully had to drag them back to the ships, despite their tears and protests.

You will see, that this stop was the least problematic on my journey.

The next island we came to was that of the Kyklopes², audacious, lawless men, who rely on the Deathless Ones so much, that they don't sow fruits or corn, nor drive out to fish, as they don't know rows or ships. Their fruits grow without care, by the blessing of Zeus. We found insane lots of goats living on the island. As we set out to look the place, we found a cave and in a fit of stupidity decided to explore it.

We were still there, when its owner came back, a nasty Kyklops named Polyphemos.

He heeded not the laws of hospitality – perhaps he didn't even know them – spoke blasphemy against Zeus and … and he grabbed two of my men, flung them around like dolls … and _ate_ them. Gods, it was horrifying! Then he went to sleep. In the morning that monster devoured two more of my men, drove his sheep outside and pushed a boulder in front of the entrance, locking us inside. I really wanted to kill him in his sleep, but I couldn't do that without trapping us all inside the cave, so we had to bide our time. During that time we looked for something to aid us in our escape and found a huge bludgeon. I cut a piece off with my sword and ordered the others to sharpen it into a rod. By the time the Kyklops was back, it was ready and so was my escape plan. After he had devoured two more of my men, I managed to get him drunk on the wine we had brought along. He asked me what my name was and I told him it was 'Nobody'. He declared, that he would eat me last and went to sleep.

We took the big pale we had made, heated it over the fire and used it to gouge his eye out.

The Kyklops awoke, roared in pain and fury, that the cave shook and we all ran, trying to get out of his reach. He pulled the pale out of his eye, scrambled around and kept on screaming.

From outside we could hear his fellow Kyklopes gather around his cave to see what was wrong. We could hear them ask him, why he was screaming like that. When he told them that 'Nobody' had blinded him and wanted to kill him, we heard them scoff in response and tell him to pray to his father, mighty Poseidon. My heart laughed, because my idea had fooled them so well.

Polyphemos kept feeling around and finally moved the boulder from the entrance of the cave. He felt the backs of his sheep to prevent anyone from escaping among them. Little did he know, that we were clinging to the bellies of the sheep – and beautiful, well-fed and well-cared sheep they were – and that was how we got away. We quickly drove the sheep to the ships to those of the crew, who had stayed there and made haste to get away from the island.

But I had a moment of hubris – I still don't know what I was thinking – and provoked the Kyklops with taunting words, that he threw a boulder at us, narrowly missing our ship. My companions told me to shut my mouth already (and I really should have) but I didn't listen and made the mistake of giving my real name. In his rage, he prayed to his father Poseidon, that I should never reach my home, or if I should, that I would get there very lately and all alone.

Thus he prayed and Kyanokhaitis³ heard him.

But we, now finally out of that danger, mourned those who had died, while thanking the gods for ourselves staying alive.

We shared the sheep we had taken among us and made sacrifices to Zeus, which went unheard.

We kept on sailing, until we landed on the island of Aiolos.

He received us kindly and asking us about everything. I told him whatever he wanted to know and after a month finally asked him to allow us to leave.

He did so and also gave me a leather bag, into which he locked the winds, safe for the west wind, so that we might get home quickly.

And we did have good wind, it was wonderful. It wasn't long, until Ithaka was in sight!

But unfortunately, my crew had to be idiots and put it into their heads, that the leather bag had treasures in it. They uncorked it, the winds escaped in a furious storm and we were blown back to Aiolos' island. But this time he sent us away, saying that we had to be cursed by the gods and he didn't want to have cursed people in his home.

I returned to the ships empty-handed and crestfallen.

The next land we came to was that of the Laistrygones.

As we went out for enquiries, we found a girl, who pointed us to the house of her parents. We quickly found out, that they were man-eating giants, as the king quickly seized one of my men, killed and cooked him.

The rest of us quickly fled back to the ships and made haste to get away as quickly as possible.

But alas, only my own ship managed to escape, the others and their crew were lost.

We kept on rowing, mourning the loss of so many more of our comrades.

For days we meandered across the sea, until we got to the isle of Aiaia. There lives Kirke, daughter of Helios and the Okeanide Perse and sister of king Aietes of Kolkhis. She is a goddess and a sorceress of great power.

That I found out, when I sent a few of my comrades to scout the surroundings and only one of them came back, completely out of his wits. He told me, that the others had been invited inside her home and not returned. Only he had refused to come inside her house and therefore had escaped that fate.

This prompted me to go out and see for myself what was going on.

On my way, I was met by Hermes, the golden-staffed, who told me what exactly had happened: that my comrades had been turned into pigs and that I wouldn't stand a chance saving them without his help. He gave me a herb that would make me immune against Kirke's sorcery and told me what I should do. I was to eat that herb, before she would give me her enchanted meal, then, as soon as she would hit me with her switch, pull my sword and attack her, as if I wanted to kill her. Then I was to make her swear a Stygian Oath not to harm me and go to bed with her, then she would restore my comrades back to humanity.

So I did, so it happened and we spent over a year at her home, before one of my comrades reminded me of home.

I asked Kirke to let us go and she agreed, but advised me to travel to Hades first and consult the spirit of the blind seer Teiresias, as he was the only one, who knew how I could get home.

The prospect of going to Hades alive frightened me, but she gave me detailed instructions on how to get there and what to do upon arrival.

We sailed to the far west, to the stream of Okeanos and beyond.

There we found a grove of white poplars, the tree of terrible Persephone.

There we entered the underworld and sacrificed the two black sheep we had brought along.

It attracted many of the feeble spirits, who wanted to strengthen themselves by drinking some of the blood, but I pulled my sword and refused to let anyone drink, before Teiresias had arrived.

Oh how many familiar faces I saw, and how surprised I was to see them!

I found one of my comrades, whom we had left behind in Kirke's home. He told me, that he had fallen out of a window and broken his neck and begged, that he should be buried properly and with his oar. I promised him to do so.

And there I saw Antikleia, my dear mother, who had been alive, when I had sailed for Troy. How shocked I was to see her here!

But even her I couldn't let near, before I had consulted Teiresias.

He came and strengthened himself on the sheep blood, before revealing, why I was cursed and what I should do to return home. I had invoked the wrath of Ennosigaios⁴ by blinding his son Polyphemos, but even so my remaining men and I would come home, under one condition: he predicted, that we would land at the isle of Thrinakia, where the sun Helios lets his cows graze. Only if we kept our hands off the cows and didn't harm them, we would get home. If we hurt them, my crew would die and I would return only after many years more – alone, on a stranger's ship. And once there I would find many suitors at my home, vying for my wife and consuming my property. I would slay them all for their impertinence and then I was to seek a land afterwards would live the rest of my days more or less peacefully, until death would come for me from the sea.

Having learned this, I allowed some of the other spirits to drink from the blood.

The first to drink was my mother. I wept bitterly, when I heard how she had passed away. She told me … excuse me, please – ahem – she had died of heartbreak during my absence, that she had withered away yearning for me. She also told me, that my Penelope was still waiting for me, that my father was sorely missing me and wasting away (just like herself) and that my son was ruling over my estate. I sought to hug my dear mother, but it's the lot of the dead to be incorporeal ghosts. She bid me farewell and retreated back into the darkness.

Then came more souls of the dead, some of them lovers of gods and mothers of famed heroes.

I even encountered Alkmene, the mother of Herakles, and Leda, the mother of Helene – both beloved by Zeus during their lifetime.

I met so many, but if I recounted them all, we would be sitting here all night and it's really time to go to sleep.”

Silence filled the room, as everyone else gazed at Odysseus in wonder.

Eventually queen Arete broke the silence: “Look at what a splendid guest we have here! We shouldn't send him off too quickly, not without appropriate guest presents. The gods have given us great wealth and it's only fair, that we should share it with this man, who is in need of our gifts indeed.”

The assembled nobles nodded in agreement and looked at their king, waiting for what he had to say.

The king turned to Odysseus and asked him to stay for a day longer, as much as he probably desired to go home. Alkinoos was delighted, when the war veteran agreed.

“But first”, he said, “my curiosity needs to be satisfied. Please do tell us, if you saw any of your comrades who met their fates in front of the walls of Troy. It would really delight us all. I wouldn't mind staying up all night just to hear that!”

Odysseus was obviously tired, but humoured them and went on: “As you wish, then. Yes, I did see them all – them and those of my old comrades, who survived the war, but met their fates at home. First I saw dark Persephone herself – she came to lead the gentle women's souls away, then allowed me to see my old friends and acquaintances.

Imagine my surprise, when the first to appear was Agamemnon of Mykene, who had been alive last time I had seen him. He was wailing and weeping over being dead and it was so heart-wrenching, that I began to cry as well. When I asked him, what fate had befallen him, he told me about how his wife Klytaimnestra and her lover Aigisthos had perfidiously murdered him, right after his return home. They had slaughtered unfortunate Kassandra too (the princess of Troy, I remember her – she was a lot like me). He then proceeded to go on a rant about the falsehood of women, only to remind me, that I had chosen a good and loyal wife in Penelope (as if I didn't already know). Then he bewailed, that he hadn't even got to see his son again, before he had died and wished me, that I would see my dear child grow into a fine young man. He also asked me, if his son Orestes was alright, but I didn't know.

He retreated into the shadows and the next to come were Akhilleus and Patroklos (always together even in death), Antilokhos and Ajax the son of Telamon.

Akhilleus recognised me and sadly asked me, why I had come to the underworld. I told him and congratulated him on now being the ruler of the shades. He moaned and responded, that he would rather have been a peon, serving another and living in poverty, than be the superior of mindless shades. He also inquired after his father and son. I told him what I knew about them and he returned to the Asphodel Fields, proud that his son had gained glory.

Other souls stood sadly and asked what I could say about their loved ones.

Only Ajax stood aside; he held a grudge and didn't want to talk to me. I must admit that I regret winning the competition against him for the armour of great Akhilleus – it brought him to the grave and that just wasn't worth it.

I also saw king Minos of Crete, who now judges the dead.

I saw the giant hunter Orion, still chasing wild game even in death.

There was Tityos, who had assaulted black-robed Leto and as punishment was chained to the ground, while two vultures were feeding off his liver.

And there I saw Tantalos, perpetually starving and thirsty, trying in vain to reach the fruits above him and the water below, always retreating, when he reached or stooped for either.

Then there was Sisyphos, the trickster, rolling his boulder up a mountain, only for it to roll down, when he was almost there, so that he would have to start again.

I even encountered the shadow of famed Herakles. But he himself isn't there – he sits with the Immortals as a god and is wed to Hebe, the giver of youth.

The shadow gave me his sympathy and recalled how once he had been sent here during life, to get terrible Kerberos from Hades, for his last service to Eurystheus.

And I would have seen many more, but the dead now came in such large numbers, that I was seized by terror. When venerated Persephone motioned for me to leave, I was more than happy to comply.

So I grabbed my terrified companions and we returned to the surface and onto the stream of Okeanos.

We returned to Kirke's island and buried Elpenor, as I had promised him.

The sorceress let us rest for a day, gave us provisions and warned us about several dangers ahead on our journey.

Among other things, she warned me about the Seirênes and their entrancing voices. She advised me to stuff the ears of my crew with wax, as soon as we came near their island. If I wanted to hear them, I was to let my crew tie me to the pylon. I would be entranced by their singing and beg my crew to untie me, but with the wax in their ears, they wouldn't hear me and just row past their island.

But danger wouldn't end there, because next we would come to the narrow strait of Messina. The strait is flanked by two cliffs.

Halfway up the bigger one there is a a cave, where hideous Skylla has her home. Kirke described her as a bellowing monster with twelve dangling feet, six long necks and nasty heads on each, with a triple row of sharp teeth. Normally she fishes in the waters below with her long-necked heads, but when a ship came past, she'd eat a man with each of her heads.

On the smaller cliff opposite her cave stands a giant fig tree. Beneath it is a giant whirlpool, the monstrous Kharybdis. Thrice a day she would swallow water and throw it back up thrice.

There was no way past either of them without losing men.

After that we would come to Thrinakia, the island where Helios kept his cattle. She gave me the same advice Teiresias had given me before: not to touch them or all of my men would die and my return home would be delayed.

With her warnings on my mind, we set sail in the morning.

I told everything to my crew and they stuffed their ears with wax and tied me to the pole, as soon as the isle of the Seirênes came into sight.

I could see, that they looked just the way Kirke had describe them: they had the upper bodies of fair Nymphai and the wings and lower bodies of birds and were sitting on a green field, each on her own pile of bones and rotting corpses of men, who had been spellbound by their singing.

The men started to row as fast as they could.

As soon as the Seirênes spotted our ship, they began to sing to me.

Their heavenly singing ensnared my senses, as they called to me and promised me all the knowledge I had ever desired and dreamed of. I wanted to hear more and begged my men to untie me, but they leaned further into their oars and sailed faster. Two stood up and bound me tighter to the pylon.

It was only when their voices couldn't be heard anymore, that I stopped struggling against the ropes. Only then did my comrades take the wax out of their ears and untie me.

We just about had time to catch our breaths, before our ship was pulled into a strong and loud current. My crew was seized by fear and they let go of their rows. I had to give them a rousing speech to get them back to rowing the ship.

I instructed the helmsman to steer the ship away from the whirlpool towards the bigger cliff (I hadn't told my men anything about Skylla, because it would have frightened them even more). As we drove past Kharybdis, it sucked in water and we could see its insides, a truly horrific sight: from the walls of water came sharp rocks like teeth and at the bottom of the whirl the earth, darkened by the wet sand. That was terrifying enough, but it all got worse when we passed the cave of Skylla, her monstrous heads dashed down and grabbed six of my comrades. They thrashed in Skylla's six maws, calling my name, screaming for help, before they got devoured … it was … it was the most woebegone thing I had ever seen in my entire life. And that means a lot coming from me. We hastily sailed past, while her mouths were full.

After getting past those monstrosities with heavy losses, we finally got to the island of Helios.

We could see golden cows and sheep grazing on green fields.

Remembering what Teiresias and Kirke had told me, I warned my crew against landing here and told them, that we would land at the next island we'd find. But their collective protest forced me to give in and we landed on Thrinakia.

Predictably enough, Zeus sent a perpetual storm, which kept us there for over a month. At some point the provisions Kirke had given us began to run out.

We had to resort to hunting our food, birds, berries, roots, small game and so on.

One day I slipped away to make some sacrifices and pray to the gods for deliverance. What I got instead was a deep slumber.

While I was asleep, one of my comrades (my brother-in-law, sadly enough⁵) got the – urgh! – 'bright' idea, that it would be perfectly fine to kill one of the sacred golden cows, sacrifice it to the god and eat it. I woke up and returned to the ship, only to smell and behold beef being roasted over fire. Of course I was angry, frustrated and completely devastated, but it was too late now.

Meanwhile, one of the maidens living on the island reported the robbery to her father Helios.

Later, Kalypso, who had heard everything from other sea deities, told me what exactly had happened: wroth at my comrades' offence, the Sun had complained to Zeus and demanded reparation, or he would sink into the stream of Okeanos and never rise again. Zeus had pacified him and promised him retribution.

In the meantime the gods sent us bad omens: the cow skins crawled around, the flesh on the skewers screamed and it sounded much like the pained mooing of living cows. It was really nauseating to me, but apparently my comrades didn't notice anything. They merrily ate the beef for six days.

On the seventh, the storm sent by Zeus suddenly stopped.

We quickly went aboard and set sail. But as soon as we were on the open sea and there was no land in sight, the skies darkened and the King of the Gods unleashed another hurricane, worse than the last. It was already ripping the vessel apart, when Zeus struck our ship with a lightning bolt. It killed all that had been left of my crew and wrecked the ship completely.

I survived just barely, by clinging to the pylon. The storm ceased after a while, but bad winds carried me across the sea all night long – right back to Skylla and Kharybdis. Latter was swallowing the sea water, but I just about managed to grab the branches of the fig tree above. All I could do was hold on, until the monstrous whirlpool finally spat the water and with it the pylon back out. I let go, clung to the wooden pole and paddled out of there as fast as I could.

For nine days I was adrift on the sea, until I was marooned on the island of the goddess Kalypso, who treated me well and nursed me back to my full health and wits.

You know the rest, king; I told you and your esteemed queen yesterday. I would rather not tell again.”

Silence settled over the crowd once more.

This time it was Alkinoos, who broke it by deciding, that Odysseus, in addition to all the other guest presents he had already received, should also have kettles and tripods. His decision found collective approval.

Next day, the gifts from the Phaiakoi were carried to a ship, more festivities were held and Odysseus did his best to rein in his anxiety.

The morning after that, the ship was finally ready to leave the harbour.

With gladdened soul, the long-suffering hero bade his kind hosts farewell and wished them the best, a wish that was requited by the Phaiakoi. The proper sacrifices to the gods were made, the crew and he himself went aboard and after everyone was in place, they set sail.

He stood on the rail to wave at the crowd standing on the dock. Meanwhile a few of the rowers spread out blankets and cloths for him to sleep on.

With a thank you, he lay down and fell into a deep slumber.

All day and all night the ship practically flew across the sea and arrived at Ithaka early in the morning. They steered the ship to a remote place they knew, carried Odysseus (who was still sleeping like a log) down onto the strand with his newly given treasures, in this remote place where no one would see all of this and rob all the goods.

Then they sailed back home.

On Olympos, Poseidon was throwing a hissy fit.

“This will not stand!”, he roared, “If the mortals don't honour me anymore, does that mean that the gods don't do it either? I thought I decreed, that Odysseus would only come home after much suffering, as _you_ decreed that eventually he _should_ return! But the Phaiakoi – descendants of mine, no less – escorted him to Ithaka on a fast ship, with greater treasures than he ever could have won at Troy! This will not stand!”

“Now, now”, Zeus sought to pacify him, “No one disrespects you here. After all, you're the oldest here-”

“ _Fourth_ oldest!”, Aphrodite corrected sharply. “Of us Olympians, I, Demeter and Hera are the oldest here!”

“Whatever”, Zeus went on, “Dear brother, if a mortal disrespects you, you can still get revenge later. If you feel, that the Phaiakoi disrespected you by bringing him home at last, punish them to your heart's content.”

“I will!”, Poseidon huffed, “And also-”

“Uhhh, uncle?”

The gods turned to Dionysos in surprise.

The god of wine and madness sighed: “Uncle, don't you think it's time to just … stop? Being charitable towards an honoured guest is no disrespect to us gods. And Odysseus has already gone through so much shit. You got what you wanted. I have looked into his mind; he will be scarred for life, will always have nightmares at night. He has suffered too much by now, that it more than makes up for his crime. Let it go.”

Athena beamed at her half-brother and would have hugged him, but she had a reputation to uphold.

“You heard him”, she triumphed, “I couldn't have said it better. With all due respect, uncle, you need to calm down. The Phaiakoi shouldn't suffer, because of your petty grudge (besides, Polyphemos more than deserved what he got). Under any other circumstances, you – and we all – would have rewarded their helpfulness and hospitality. Should this be an exception?”

Poseidon grumbled, but assented and promised not to take it out on the innocent Phaiakoi.

That pacified Athena; Poseidon was a god of his word.

Still, it went against the fate that the Moirai had decided and so Zeus Moiragetês⁶ had a long talk with them. For once, the Moirai were generous enough to turn a blind eye to this subversion of fate.

And that's how a mean prophecy _didn't_ come true.⁷

In Ithaka, Odysseus finally awoke from his slumber. But as he looked around, he didn't recognise his own home; the gods had summoned a thick mist to conceal the surroundings in its silver grey veil.

At first he was totally lost and despaired over it, praying that someone would send him a sign to let him know, where he was.

Athena heard his prayer and emerged from the mist in the guise of a young shepherd.

The battle-hardened veteran spotted him and inquired, where he was.

She laughed and informed him, that he was on widely known Ithaka, where else could they be?

She could tell, that he was relieved beyond comprehension.

But with healthy suspicion, he told her a fib, that he was from Crete, had fled after murdering a prince, then got into a storm and had been dumped here by the crew of the ship he had sailed with.

Athena laughed in amusement: “And this is why you're one of my favourite heroes. Your cunning is exceptional and you and I have that in common.”

He gawked at her and fell onto his knees.

She smiled and continued: “I have come to assist you. For you're not out of danger. Teiresias surely has warned you, that you would come home to find strangers inside your home, wooing your unwilling wife. You and I must plan now how to vanquish them.”

Odysseus looked up and replied: “Hardly a man could ever recognise you, oh goddess. For you disguise yourself as one of us mortals, when you walk among us and shroud yourself in illusions.”

Athena concealed, that one hero had seen her and other gods for what they were: Diomedes, Odysseus' former friend, whom she _might_ have favoured _just_ a little more. Even if these times of peace, she had never taken away his enhanced sight.

“Let's not talk about that”, she went on instead, “First we need to hide all those treasures. Then I will cast an illusion on you. We both know that it's better, if no one recognises you just yet.

And I know, that you're suspicious. You don't want to truly return, until you have reassured yourself about your wife's loyalty, no matter how much I insist, that she has never been unfaithful to you. She passes the days weeping for you, missing you sorely and stalling all the suitors that pressure her to marry one of them. Her loyalty is the last thing you have to worry about – it's her hope slipping away and the loyalty of her and your servants.

I will be honest with you: I always knew, that you would return home alone and in secret, after much suffering, but I couldn't go against Poseidon, who is my father's brother. He begrudges you still, because you blinded his son Polyphemos (even though that shitfaced Kyklops really had it coming). But it was my father's will, that you would come home eventually.

Listen: right now, you are in the harbour of Phorkys⁸, the Old Man of the Sea. Over there is a cave, dedicated to him and the local Naiades, who you always honoured with sacrifices. And there is the tree-clad Mount Neriton.”

With that she dispersed the fog, revealing the familiar environment.

With a happy cry he sank to the earth, kissed the ground and made a sweet prayer to greet the Naiades he had honoured, while had had been home.

After that, the mortal and the goddess carried the riches into the cave to hide them.

Then they began to plot the imminent doom of the intruding suitors, who were vying for Penelope.

“Thank you for warning me”, Odysseus told her, “Had I come in unprepared, I would have ended up like Agamemnon, slaughtered in my own home, except that it wouldn't be by my dear wife. Please help me, as I plan how to get my kingdom and property back and vanquish the intruders. Stay by my side, as I reclaim what's mine. With your wise counsel and assistance, I would take on hundreds of men without fear.”

Athena smiled. “Gladly will I be by your side through it all, my mortal friend.”

A risky thing for any deity, to call a mortal “friend”.

But Athena was a lonelier goddess than most people thought.

She had surprisingly few friends. And with Ares gone, she didn't even have a rival to regularly spar with (she didn't even know where he was; he had left right after the Trojan War had ended for good, was now the-Fates-knew-where and only occasionally wrote to his family).

Her mortal favourites were as close to being friends as her status allowed.

And she chose them carefully, because she hated when the favour of a god went to a mortal's head. Her favourites had to be sensible enough to not take her goodwill for granted.

Odysseus smiled back: “There are no words to express my gratitude, Oxyderkês⁹.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Lotophages: Lotos-Eaters.  
> 2) These Kyklopes are the children of Poseidon and the sea nymph Thoôsa (probably a goddess of swift currents), a daughter of Phorkys and Keto and sister to the Gorgones (among others). They are not to be confused with the Elder Kyklopes, who are the sons of Ouranos and Gaia, or with their children, the Younger Kyklopes, who worked for Hephaistos, before Apollon slew them.  
> 3) Kyanokhaitis: "The (dark) Blue-Haired", an epithet of Poseidon.  
> 4) Ennosigaios: "Shaker of the Earth", an epithet of Poseidon in his function as god of earthquakes.  
> 5) Eurylokhos of Same was married to Odysseus' sister Ktimene. Throughout the Odyssey, he's shown to be a cowardly ass, who constantly goes against Odysseus' orders and undermines his authority.  
> 6) Moiragetês: "Leader/Guide of the Fates", an epithet of Zeus in his function as god of fate. It's also en epithet of Apollon in his function as god of prophecy and oracles.  
> 7) In the actual Odyssey, the prophecy is that the vessel carrying Odysseus home would be turned into stone, shortly before reaching the home harbour. In the original version Poseidon actually does get revenge and turns the ship into stone. It terrifies the Phaiakoi into resolving to never escort sea travellers again. Afterwards, Poseidon creates a mountain ridge to encompass their city and make sure they never escort strangers again.  
> I don't like that version at all, so I took the liberty to alter it and let the innocent people get away. After all, their only "crime" was being friendly and helping a man, who was acting in self-defense, when he blinded a man-eating Kyklops.  
> 8) Phorkys is an old sea god, son of Pontos and Gaia and brother of Nereus (the god of sea bounty and father of the Nereides), Thaumas (god of the wonders of the sea), the whale-shaped sea monster Keto and (perhaps) the whirlpool-shaped sea monster Kharybdis. He represents the dangers of the sea.   
> Together with Keto, he is the father of the most dangerous and monstrous sea deities, the Graiai & the Gorgones (those you know from the myth of Perseus), Thoôsa (the mother of Polyphemos by Poseidon), Skylla and Ekhidna and according to some sources of Ladon, the Drakon that guards the Garden of the Hesperides.  
> 9) Oxyderkês: "Sharp-Sighted", an epithet of Athena.


	16. The Odyssey, Final Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically the second half of the Odyssey. Odysseus finally comes home, kicks arse and is reunited with his family at last.

After turning Odysseus into an elderly and ugly beggar and letting him know, what his son was up to, Athena flew to Sparta to inform Telemakhos, that he had to return home.

Odysseus himself on the other hand wandered through the landscape, until he found the house of his swineherd. There he was attacked and nearly ripped apart by the guard dogs. Fortunately, the swineherd saw what was going on and drove the dogs away.

After inviting him into his home and giving him food and drink, they bonded over their misery and Odysseus was pleased to hear, that Eumaios (that was the swineherd's name) wished for nothing more than his true king's safe return.

The “beggar” told a fib, that he had once been a rich man from Crete, but then had been struck by fate and now had nothing, but the rags he was wearing. He also lied, that he had heard of hims- uh, the great Odysseus. Eumaios was obviously sceptical, like any sane man would have been.

Seeing, that he wouldn't convince the other, the disguised hero suggested a bet and the swineherd agreed.

Then the latter and his fellow servants slaughtered a pig, sacrificed to the gods and the local Nymphai and then shared the meat with him and among themselves.¹

Later Zeus apparently thought it would be funny to let it storm and rain all night long.

Since Odysseus had nothing but his rags, he tricked the swineherd into letting him borrow his cloak.

Then everyone lay down to sleep.

Alone Eumaios didn't stay inside the house and preferred to sleep with the pigs outside.

Odysseus noticed and his heart was warmed at this display of dutifulness and loyalty.

Meanwhile, Telemakhos was having the time of his life in Sparta at the wealthy court of Menélaos and Helene, the godlike and glorious pair.

One night, he was visited by the goddess Athena in a dream.

“It's time to go back home”, she urged, “Even her family is pressuring your mother to remarry. Return home, before it's too late and she will be forced to take a new husband. You know what always happens, when a woman remarries. And another thing: her suitors are lurking along the channel between Ithaka and Samos, plotting to murder you. Sail another way home, at night and land at a more secret spot on Ithaka. Once there, spend the rest of the night at the hut of Eumaios, but send the ship and your companions to town.”

In the morning Telemakhos and his new friend, Nestor's son Peisistratos went to Menélaos and Helene and informed them, that they wished to depart. The king and queen quickly went to prepare splendid guest presents for the young men, beautiful items of both material and personal value; despite everything, neither Menélaos nor Helene had lost any of their generosity.

“Farewell”, Menélaos spoke, “And say hello to Nestor from me. He was like a father to me too², when we were at war with the Trojans.”

The two young men promised to do so.

Right in that moment, an eagle swooped down from the sky to kill a goose in the yard, startling several servants.

Peisistratos turned to Menélaos: “What does this mean? Is this omen directed to you or to us?”

Menélaos thought hard, but it was Helene, who answered: “Allow me. I know what it means, for the King of the Skies himself is my father. It's simple: the eagle that just slew the goose is Odysseus, coming home from his wanderings. The goose stands for the insolent suitors he will vanquish. Your father, Telemakhos, will soon be home or is already there and plotting his revenge.”

“Oh, may you be right!”, Telemakhos cried, “And I shall honour you like a goddess, if so!”

They said their goodbyes and left.

First the two princes returned to Pylos and Telemakhos dropped his new friend off.

“Say hi to Nestor and give him my apologies”, he spoke, “But I can't waste any time here and need to get home quickly.”

Peisistratos grinned: “Knowing my dad, he'll _insist_ that you stay as his guest for a few days. He's really bull-headed, you know. Doesn't take 'no' for an answer. So you better sneak away, before he notices you.”

Telemakhos grinned back, said goodbye and quickly went back aboard.

The ship was about to leave the harbour of Pylos, ere Nestor could catch them and throw a hissy fit, because they hadn't even stopped long enough to say hi, when a stranger approached Telemakhos. He introduced himself as Theoklymenos a fugitive from Argos and gifted seer and begged the prince to take him along, as he was being pursued. Telemakhos pitied the man and consented.

On their way across the sea, the gods sent them good wind and they made quick progress.

When the sun went down, Odysseus' son bid the crew to make a detour to a more remote shore of Ithaka under the veil of darkness.

Meanwhile Odysseus was sitting with Eumaios and the other men at dinner.

Still wanting to test his hospitality, he informed the swineherd that he wanted to go to town the next day to beg. Or he could go and offer his services to the suitors for just a bit of food.

Eumaios stared at him, aghast. “Are you suicidal? Those men are violent and impious and have servants of their own, young and well-dressed men with pretty faces. No, stay here, where no one is bothered by your presence. But Odysseus' son will soon come home, _he_ will give you food and clothes. Then you can go wherever you like, just … stay away from those _brutes_.”

Odysseus relented, wishing that Zeus would like this serving man as much as he did.

“But tell me about Odysseus' family”, he requested, “How are they doing? Who of them is still alive and who has descended to the underworld?”

“Well …”

Laertes was still alive, but living in misery away from the palace and wasting away from grief for his late wife and missing son. The old queen had passed away from heartache.

“… As for our queen Penelope … well, we can't expect kindness from her, ever since those cursed men have invaded our home and brought nothing but bale. As much as we want to speak to her, she has enough grief as it is.”

Later Odysseus and Eumaios were tending the fire, when the former noticed the dogs running around with wagging tails.

“Someone's coming, but the dogs aren't barking”, he pointed out to Eumaios. “That must be someone you know.”

He had just finished his sentence, when a young man about twenty, with chestnut hair and sharp mossy green eyes, entered the yard. Eumaios promptly dropped everything and went to welcome him, like a father would welcome his sorely missed son. There were lots of tears from the older and kind, soothing words and smiles from the other.

Odysseus' heart almost stopped, when he recognised his own son and he really wanted to be part of that, but had to contain himself.

_Oh gods, how my baby boy has grown!_

“How is the situation?”, Telemakhos inquired.

“Still awful.”

“Ah, nothing has changed then. Anyway, good to see you, my friend. And may I ask, who is this guest of yours?”

Eumaios related to him what he had heard.

The prince frowned. “Oh … oh dear. I will see, what I can do. Eumaios, I think you should keep him here for now. I will bring guest gifts to him and provisions, so he won't eat you poor. I would rather not allow him to go up to my hall, where the suitors are vying for my mother's hand. Their blasphemy and impertinence knows no bounds and it would break my heart to see them mistreat and disrespect this poor fellow.”

Odysseus took the opportunity and cleared his throat: “Excuse me, if you don't mind? I already heard about the behaviour of those men. That sounds really outrageous. Why do you just let them do as they please in your father's house? If _I_ was your age or, say, the king himself, coming home from his wanderings, I would make them pay for their impudence in blood!”

Sadly, his son told him what the problem was.

Then he asked the swineherd to go up to the palace and tell Penelope, that her son was back home and would come to see her the next day. So Eumaios did.

This was just the moment Athena had been waiting for.

She appeared to Odysseus (but not to Telemakhos) and waved at him. He understood and followed her outside. The dogs sensed her presence and all began to whimper and cower in fear.

“It's time”, Athena spoke, “for your son to know you, Odysseus. You need to begin to plot the demise of your enemies together with him. I will be near at all times, for I too thirst for battle.”

With that she stripped the illusion off of him and restored him to his younger, vigorous and noble-looking self.

“Go back”, she said, “Your son has been wanting for you long enough, don't you agree?”

Telemakhos was thunderstruck, when the stranger returned from the outside as a strong, kingly looking man in his prime.

“Did you just … shapeshift?!”, he gasped, “Zeus have mercy on me! You're a god! Oh please, show us kindness and we will give you the best sacrifices we have to offer-”

“Whoa there! Settle down!”, the other man cried, “Don't compare me to the gods, it's as blasphemous as it is embarrassing. I'm your father! The man who has been kept away from you for twenty years! I'm home!”

And embraced him tearfully.

Telemakhos' head was spinning. “W-wait! This is too good to be true! I can't believe such a crass thing! How do I know, that I'm not being deceived by a Daimon? You can't be a mere mortal, you went outside as an elderly beggar and returned as a nobleman in his prime!”

“This was the will of Pallas Athena”, the older man explained, “She cast an illusion on me to make me unrecognisable and now she has stripped it away. It is easy for the gods to beautify or deface mortals at will.”

The younger man looked the other in the eyes. Often had he heard from others (especially his mother), that he had his father's eyes. And when he looked into the other's, they were the same as his own, only sharper, older and more melancholy.

Now Telemakhos burst into tears himself, hugged back and they both cried their hearts out.

Once they calmed down, Odysseus told his son about everything that had happened to him.

Then father and son began to make plans on how to proceed further.

At the palace, Telemakhos' companions and crew arrived, at the same time as Eumaios.

They informed Penelope, that her son was home and would be joining her soon, which made the grieving queen feel significantly better.

The suitors were miffed at those news and collectively went out into the yard to plot.

Their leader Antinoos (who also was one of the biggest dicks) suggested, that since their ambush had failed, they should try again and kill him more discreetly, before he could tell anyone, that they had tried to kill him.

Right in that moment, a livid Penelope herself stepped outside.

“YOU!”, she shouted furiously at Antinoos, “You bale-smith! You insolent fool! People used to say, that you're one of the best in counsel and speech, but I have seen nothing but the opposite from you! Have you forgot, that the King of the Skies himself is witness to all supplicants? Need I remind you, how your own father came here as a fugitive? A former pirate, who had incurred the wrath of both the people of Ithaka and of our allies, the Thresprotians, for attacking them! They wanted to kill him and raid his property, but my dear Odysseus intervened. And _you_! All you ever do here is consume his own goods without compensation, woo his wife and now you want to murder his only son! Cease your murder plots this instant and tell the others to do the same!”

It was Eurymakhos, who intervened and assured the angered queen, that no one was seriously plotting a murder (which was a lie; the only one who wasn't plotting was Amphinomos).

Penelope gave everyone a death glare and returned to her chambers, where she cried herself to sleep.

Next morning, Telemakhos decided, that he shouldn't let his mother wait any longer and prepared return to his palace.

Eurykleia, the old first maid saw him first and ran up to welcome him home. She was quickly followed by the rest of the household staff, until Penelope herself exited her chambers to see what was going on.

Tearfully she embraced her son and welcomed him home.

“My sweet light!”, she sobbed, “I feared I would never see you again. How could you just skulk out of my house without telling me?! Now you must tell me all about your journey!”

“Later”, Telemakhos promised, “First we need to properly invite the stranger I brought along from Pylos. And I really could use a bath. As for you, freshen yourself up and go to the house altar with the maids. Pray to the gods and promise them the best sacrifices we can give them, if Zeus will grant us retribution at last.”

Penelope did so.

When the young man came out refreshed, Athena made him more handsome than he already was, so that everyone who saw him stopped to marvel at his stateliness.

 _Maybe I should add 'Goddess of beauty' to my domains_ , she thought drily. _Aphrodite's face would be absolutely priceless!_

The young prince ignored the empty wheedling of the suitors and sat with his father's old companions, who asked him about everything that had occurred to him.

Later he finally reported to his mother what he had learned on his trip.

At that opportunity, his guest Theoklymenos approached Penelope and proclaimed, that Odysseus was already home and would soon end the wrong-doings of the suitors. Penelope didn't believe him, but still promised him riches, if his word came true.

In the meantime Odysseus (again disguised as a beggar) and Eumaios were going into town.

On the way they met the goatherd Melantheus, who immediately began to mock the two.

Eumaios scowled: “If Odysseus was here, he would shut your mouth!”

“Hah!”, Melantheus barked, “This will never happen! Your Odysseus is dead and will never return! And I hope that Telemakhos will soon be dead too!” The goatherd cackled and left.

Odysseus' blood was boiling, but he had to contain himself.

The two continued on their way.

As they came near to the royal palace, someone noticed them: Argos, Odysseus' faithful dog.

Twenty years before, the king had tamed him to be his hunting dog, but hadn't got to take delight him him, as he had been torn away from home. A long time ago, Argos had been well cared for and a stately dog, but these days he lay in a corner, neglected and plagued by ticks and fleas.

As soon as he heard the voice of Odysseus, he weakly lifted his head and ears.

Recognising his master, Argos happily wagged his tail, but was too weak to approach.

Odysseus saw his faithful pet and wanted to cry.

But he blinked away his tears and instead asked Eumaios: “Why is that poor dog lying there beside the dung heap? He must have been such a fine and good pet once. Was he a swift hunting dog, or was his owner just keeping him for luxury?”

“The former”, the swineherd answered sadly, “And if he was still in the same shape as he was, when our lord departed for Troy, you would be dazzled by his speed and strength. He was the best hunting dog a man could have. But now, that his master is away, the faithless servants neglect him.”

Odysseus' heart shattered, but he couldn't show it.

But Argos, having seen his master again after twenty years, finally passed on.

Seeing, that his faithful companion was no more, Odysseus swallowed his tears and continued on his way with Eumaios, hating that he couldn't grieve for his good boy openly.

They had just snuck into the hall and Telemakhos had given Odysseus some food.

After eating that, Athena advised him to beg the suitors for mild alms, just to see who had a modicum of decency.

He did so and most were pitying enough to give him some food.

But when Melantheus, the rude goatherd from earlier, told them that the swineherd had brought the beggar here, Antinoos verbally attacked poor Eumaios for his “impertinence” in bringing another freeloader here (which was hilarious, since the suitors were all freeloaders).

Eumaios was visibly upset, but kept his composure.

Telemakhos came to his aid. “Leave him alone”, he snapped at Antinoos, “And the stranger too! Really and that wants to be the future husband of my mother! Give him alms – it's the duty of the rich to the poor.”

Antinoos made a snappish retort and went back to his own meal, without complying.

The others had no objection to giving just a bit of food each of them; after all their meal was abundant.

But when the hero politely asked Antinoos for just a crumb of bread and the other just insulted him, Odysseus reproached his disrespect and unkindness. This made the suitor so angry, that he threw a chair at the older man. He didn't even stagger, but his anger grew and grew, though he still contained himself.

Even the other suitors were indignant at this and they chewed him out; after all everyone knew that sometimes the gods themselves came down from the heavens as lowly travellers to test the righteousness and hospitality of mortals.

Yet their irritation was nothing compared to the anger of Telemakhos, Penelope and some of the maids, who collectively wished to see this disrespectful prick dead.

The hero in disguise meanwhile sat in a corner and ate what he had been given.

Later Iros, another beggar from the city came to ask for food.

When he saw the older man sitting by the door, he told him to go away.

Odysseus glared and refused, saying there was enough for both of them.

Then the two beggars got into an argument.

The amused suitors suggested a fight and the winner would receive one of the big goat stomachs that were roasting above the fire.

The younger beggar had confidence in his youth, while Odysseus just considered, whether he should kill the other with one blow or just break his bones.

He decided on the latter, royally kicked the other's arse and dragged him out of the hall.

Impressed by the show and by his fighting prowess, the other men awarded him the promised goat stomach.

One of the friendlier ones, a young man named Amphinomos, toasted to him and wished him good fortune. Odysseus found this endearing and warned the younger to watch his back. This made Amphinomos so uncomfortable, that he spent the rest of the night brooding about it.

Not that it was of any use; his fate was already decided by the gods.

Soon after, Penelope came outside to speak to her suitors.

Athena had done her thing again and restored her to the full flower of her youth, while she had been asleep, so the suitors would be so captivated by her beauty as to cater to her every whim.

And indeed, they were struck by desire and began to ooh and aah, when they saw the woman they were wooing step into the room, albeit her face was veiled, as usual when she left her chambers.

Penelope whoever first said to her son: “Really, my son, you were more sensible when you were younger. How could you just stand by as these men here abused the poor stranger so terribly and disgracefully?”

“Your anger is completely understandable”, Telemakhos responded, “However, you must remember, that it would have been me against all of them. I have no helper here, there was nothing I _could_ have done. All we can do is pray to Father Zeus, Pallas Athena and Phoibos Apollon, that these brutes will suffer a fate like Iros or worse.”

Thus they spoke to each other, until Eurymakhos approached them, another really unpleasant individual among the suitors.

“Oh shrewd daughter of Ikarios, if everyone saw you now!”, he cried, “You would have a lot more suitors in your hall by tomorrow, for you're the first of women in beauty, growth and mind.”

“I'm not nearly as beautiful as I once was”, Penelope replied, “My beauty and growth have been diminished by grief for the awesome hero, whom the gods took away from me. If he came back to me, my happiness alone would restore my beauty, but now I waste away without him by the will of the cruel Moirai. Before he left, he entrusted his states into my care, that I would watch over them and over his dear parents and that, once our son has grown into a man, I should leave the house and remarry, if I wanted to. That dreaded day is nigh and I will be forced to agree to the remarriage I loathe so. Your conduct causes me additional pain; never has there been such usage among suitors! Any honest men wooing and competing for a wealthy woman would bring life stock of their own to eat and rich gifts for the bride's family – instead of consuming the goods of another without any compensation.”

This prompted the men to send their servants to fetch precious gifts from their own quarters.

Penelope accepted them and retreated to her chambers, while her maids carried the valuables after her.

Odysseus' heart swelled with pride at how his dear wife had beguiled these men into showering her with gifts.

_That's my wife!_

In the evening, after Odysseus had endured more abuse from some of the worse suitors, Telemakhos had finally ordered them all to go to bed and sleep off their rush.

Finally alone, he and his son began to put their own murder plot into motion, first by hiding the armour and weapons of the suitors.

When Athena conjured a golden light to lead the way in the dark corridor, Telemakhos became aware of her presence and ooh-ed and aah-ed.

His father shushed him, saying that now was not the time to question anything and that this was simply the way of the Immortals, to stand by the mortals they liked, while remaining unseen.

Once they had hidden all the weaponry, Telemakhos went to sleep.

Alone again, he continued to hold counsel with Athena, until Penelope entered with some of her maids.

While the servants tidied up the mess the suitors had made earlier, one of the young girls insulted Odysseus for no reason. He just got to make a warning retort, before the queen herself interfered.

“Enough! Don't think that I don't notice your perpetually outrageous behaviour! Now shoo! For as you all know, I wish to talk to this man.”

The first maid brought a chair for Odysseus and all servants saw themselves out.

Once they were alone, Penelope addressed him: “So, won't you tell me, who you are, who your parents are and where you come from?”

“I will tell you everything”, Odysseus said, “except for that; my story is very depressing and will just make us both more miserable. I don't want to anger anyone by bawling inside your home, like a sad drunk.”

“I can't become more miserable than I already am”, Penelope returned and told him of her own misfortune.

For many years, she had been waiting for her husband to come home. After sixteen years, everyone apparently had decided, that she was now a widow – even though there was no proof he was dead – and men from Ithaka and the surrounding islands had come to woo for her unwilling hand.

She had claimed, that she needed to weave a fine burial shroud for her father-in-law. They had relented to give her the time to finish it. So she had weaved by day, but each night she had loosened the threads, so she'd had to start anew. This trick had worked for three years, until some treacherous maids had caught her and ratted her out to the suitors.

“Now I'm running out of excuses, my parents are pressuring me to remarry and my son is sick of these men consuming his property. I'm at the end of my wits. Even so, tell me your story.”

Odysseus yielded and served her the same made-up tragic life story he had told everyone, who had asked. He also claimed that he had met hims- uhh, the great hero Odysseus and hosted him for a few weeks, before sailing on to Troy.

This made Penelope burst into tears and wail for her husband, who was sitting in front of her, but she didn't know.

He really wanted nothing more than to hug her and never let her go, but he still needed to keep his act up.

“Just to be sure”, the poor woman sniffled, “Describe him to me. Just as you remember him.”

Odysseus frowned: “Oh dear … this will be tough, after all it was twenty years ago! Let's see …”

And described in great detail the very attire he had worn on the day he had sailed from Ithaka.

She cried harder, recalling that she had made the clothes for him.

After calming down, she accepted his tale.

He promised her, that her husband – ahem, was already here, ahem – would soon be coming home.

She didn't buy it, but ordered for someone to wash his feet.

The one chosen for this task was an elderly servant, whom Odysseus recognised as his nurse.

Eurykleia noted that he resembled her missing king.

“I used to hear that a lot”, he told her, “That he and I looked similar.”

She filled a basin with water and he scooted away from the fire into the shadows, fearing that she would recognise him.

As the old woman was washing his feet, her fingers brushed over the scar on his thigh.

She froze and old memories flooded her mind …

_Antikleia had just given birth to her and Laertes' child._

_The nurse was holding the screaming baby in her lap._

_Suddenly the door opened and in came the mother's father: Autolykos, son of Hermes and a shapeshifting thief._

_His teal-coloured eyes skimmed over the scene and he smiled._

_Eurykleia lifted the baby from her lap and handed him to his grandfather._

“ _Come and say hello your grandson”, she invited him._

_As soon as the baby boy sat on his grandfather's knee, he stopped wailing and stretched out his arms._

_Autolykos laughed and held his finger out for those tiny hands to hold._

_The nurse's smile broadened at the sight and after exchanging a glance with the proud parents, she asked the old man: “Do you want to pick a name for your grandchild?”_

_The demigod thought for a moment: “Hm … I was wroth at the world, when I came here. Give him the name I tell you: 'Odysseus', 'The Wrathful One'. For his life will be a hard, but glorious one. When he comes to age, send him up to my own property. For I have many presents I want to give to my grandson, when he becomes a man.”_

_When Odysseus grew to age, his parents sent him to visit his grandfather and uncles._

_They welcomed him happily._

_Later the day, he and his uncles went out to hunt, but he was attacked by a boar. He managed to kill it, only after the beast's tusks dug into his thigh, ripping away a chunk of his flesh._

_His uncles took care of the wound and carried him and their spoils back to their father's home._

_Autolykos healed his grandson and sent him back home to his parents with lots of presents._

_There Odysseus told everyone how he had got that scar, which later on became one of his trademark features._

Eurykleia burst into tears and sobs: “It's you! You're Odysseus, my dear child! And I didn't even recognise you, before I touched your scar! You're back!”

In her joy she wanted to go and tell Penelope the good news, but Odysseus grabbed her.

“Not a word!”, he hissed, “Do you want to get me killed?! Keep your mouth shut! For if a god vanquishes the suitors through me, I will spare no one, not even you, my nurse.”

Eurykleia smiled crookedly, completely unfazed by the fact, that her master was gripping her by the neck. But she promised to remain silent.

“When you have defeated them”, she whispered, “Shall I tell you the names of the disloyal household members?”

“No need, I'll spot them on my own”, he declined.

She went to get new water and finished washing and salving his feet.

Odysseus scooted closer to the fire again to warm himself and concealed the scar with his rags.

Penelope, who had been distracted the entire time, continued their conversation from earlier.

“Before we go to bed, there are a few more things I want to ask you. Your words and behaviour have shown that you're a witty and clever man, so I would be obliged, if you could interpret this dream for me: I was standing in my yard and geese were picking up grain from the ground, when an eagle swooped down from the sky and killed all of them. I wept for the loss, when suddenly the eagle began to talk! He told me, that he was my beloved Odysseus, that the geese were my suitors and that he would be coming home soon to smite them all. Then I woke up. What does it mean?”

“Exactly as Odysseus told you”, the hero replied, “What you saw was the near future. He will come home and kill them all. It's as simple as that.”

 _Not quite_ that _simple, but whatever._

“I don't know”, Penelope said doubtfully, “But I have an idea: tomorrow I will hold a competition. My husband has an extremely strong recurved bow that so far only he has been able to string. I will put up twelve axes with hollow heads and only a man equal to my husband will be able to string the bow and shoot an arrow through the twelve axe heads.”

_I'm so in love with this woman!_

“That's an amazing idea!”, Odysseus praised her. “Waste no time in holding the competition. But now it's time to sleep; soon it will be morning.”

She bid him good night and went to bed.

As he lay down near the fire, he noticed some of the maidservants sneaking out of their rooms into the suitor's quarters. He fumed with anger, but swallowed it – he had seen so many more outrageous things after all.

Right as he had finished that thought, he heard Athena's voice.

“Why are you still awake?”, she questioned, “Does it not soothe you to come back to see your wife still being so faithful to you after all these years? And that your child has grown into the best son a man could wish for?”

“You're right”, he agreed, “But I have worries – I don't think I can stand against so many suitors all by myself. And if I do, what will happen hereafter? Many will be angered at the murder of the entire noble population of my kingdom and those around.”

He heard her huff in frustration, before she began to scold him: “Alright, Odysseus, listen up! First off, where is your courage? Have you left it behind in Troy?! Secondly, have you forgot, that I'm always looking out for you? Many other men trust lesser companions than a god and you're still so doubtful? With me by your side, Odysseus, you could defeat hundreds of men – you did back in the Trojan War, just as Diomedes and Menélaos did. You know that. Mark my words, son of Laertes: in the morning you, your son and I will slaughter those many foes and leave none of them alive. As for the aftermath, leave that to me. Now sleep, for you need to rest before the fight tomorrow.”

Then he felt an irresistible exhaustion, as the great goddess put a deep slumber onto him.

Soon rosy-fingered Êôs brought the dawn.

Odysseus was woken up by the sound of his dear wife weeping.

Distraught by the sound and still nervous because of what was to come, he prayed for a sign from Zeus.

The King of the Skies heard and let it thunder.

In the yard, several women grinding corn to flour heard it and began to murmur. When Odysseus heard them wish, that today would be the last meal for the suitors, his heart was glad.

Soon Eurykleia shooed the maids out of their beds.

“Today is a day of celebration!”, she announced, “So off to work with you all! You know your tasks.”

The maids, significantly more awake at the news, hurried to do as told.

As they were scurrying around, the suitors swaggered him, some more hungover than the others and all rather grumpy at being woken up so early.

They were followed by Eumaios, who drove several fat pigs into the kitchen, before joining Odysseus in his spot beside the fire.

“Are they still disrespectful to you?”, he inquired.

The disguised hero scowled: “Yes and I wish they were dead.”

“Most here do”, the swineherd muttered.

As they were sticking their heads together, the goatherd Melantheus passed by.

“Are you still here, beggar? Fuck off and bother someone else!”, he snapped at Odysseus.

The latter didn't reply, just silently plotted the other's demise.

The rude goatherd was followed by another man, Philoitos, the local cattle herd.

“Sorry for that”, he apologised for the other, “He may officially be the goatherd, but his actual profession is being a prick. Greetings, good stranger! May you have better fortune in the future, though you live in misery right now. Gods, you look just like I remember our true lord Odysseus! I could tell from the very moment I saw you. Perhaps he suffers the same fate as you and has to wander the earth, ragged and begging for his bread. Meanwhile I am forced to drive the cattle he entrusted to me back then to this house for invaders to eat. Oh, if only he would finally come home and kill them all!”

_Oh thank Athena, another ally!_

Odysseus promised him and Eumaios, that what they were praying for would happen soon.

At the same time the suitors were still plotting how to discreetly murder Telemakhos, when they saw an eagle carrying a dove in its talons.

“It's not going to work”, Amphinomos spoke up, “Let's have breakfast instead.”

So they did.

After breakfast, they gathered at the shrine of Apollon to sacrifice to him and the gods, before eating the rest.

Apollon meanwhile was glaring down onto the scene.

“Get the fuck out of my sanctuary, you putrid scum!”, he snarled, “ _Get out_! I'm not granting your worthless prayers!”

Zeus patted his son's shoulder. “There, there. They'll be dead soon.”

“I know, father”, the younger grumbled.

In Odysseus' palace, the king in disguise had grown even angrier than he already was, as Athena had warped the sanity of the suitors to rile him up more.

This didn't go completely unnoticed by Theoklymenos, the seer from Argos. He felt the presence of the war goddess and observed the nasty scene.

The suitors' faces distorted strangely, they were laughing unnaturally, while crying at the same time, the meat they were eating was bloody and they somehow sensed coming bale.

But when the prophet told them of what he was seeing, he got laughed at.

“The man is insane!”, Eurymakhos claimed, “Perhaps we should accompany him to the market place, since he sees only darkness here!”

“No thank you”, Theoklymenos replied nonchalantly, “I have functioning eyes, ears and feet and a perfectly sound mind. With their help, I'll leave this house now, for I see nothing but bale for you all, who commit outrage in Odysseus' house and disrespect everyone here. Farewell.”

Then he walked out like a boss.

While all this was happening, Penelope had gone into her husband's armoury to get his strongest bow, arrows and twelve axes.

She set the weapons up, gathered the suitors and proclaimed: “Alright, you freeloaders who had no other excuse than that you want to seek my hand in marriage! It's time that you _earn_ it! Here I have my husband's strongest bow. The one of you, who strings this bow most easily and use it to shoot an arrow through all twelve axe heads, will win my hand.”

Eumaios and Philoitos wept, when they saw their lord's bow, but were mocked by Antinoos.

Latter hoped to be the one to win the competition – little did he know, that he would be the first to die by that bow and arrows.

But it was Telemakhos, who came forward first. “Let me try first, if I'm yet capable of wielding my father's priced weapon”, he requested and it was granted.

He readied the bow and tried to string it three times. But just as he was about to succeed, Odysseus gestured for him to stop now. Pretending to be disappointed, he stepped back.

One by one, the suitors attempted and failed to string the bow of cunning Odysseus and sat back down with huge dents in their pride.

While they were making fools of themselves, Odysseus and the cattle- and swineherd had left the room for a little.

“Tell me, you two, the truth and nothing but: if Odysseus now came home to reclaim his property, would you follow him or the suitors?”

“Odysseus!”, they responded in unison.

He smiled. “Good, because he's already here! It's me! After twenty years and many a misadventure, I'm finally home. And I see that of all my servants only you two and Eurykleia truly longed for my return; I heard none of the others pray for me to come home. But you shall know the truth: once I have vanquished the suitors, you two shall be rewarded with riches and a wife. You will be friends to my son and me. And should you be in doubt; see this scar on my thigh, done to me by the tusk of a boar, when I was hunting with my uncles on Mount Parnassos.”

They saw the treacherous scar, gasped in shock and tearfully hugged their rightful king.

“Now, now”, Odysseus stopped them after a while. “I'm afraid we need to postpone the happy reunion to later. Now you need to do exactly as I say: when we go back inside, I will ask to have a turn with the bow. They will refuse me, but you, Eumaios, give it to me anyway and then go to tell the women to go to their quarters and stay there, no matter what. You, Philoitos, go and lock the doors to the yard.”

Then the three snuck back inside.

There Eurymakhos was currently trying to string the bow. After a while he gave up, complaining loudly about how humiliating it was, that no one could even string the bow of godlike Odysseus.

“Eh, who cares”, Antinoos responded, “Who wants to string bows today anyway, it's the holiday of Zeus! Let's let everything lie and try again tomorrow.”

He sounded like a huffy child.

 _This is priceless!_ , Odysseus thought and smirked for a second.

Just as they had put away the bow and its string, the war veteran requested, that – just for the heck of it – he could have a shot at it (pun intended).

He met with much protest from the suitors, but Telemakhos and Penelope scolded them.

“Don't be stupid!”, Penelope snapped at Antinoos, “It's not like this homeless man, who isn't even competing for my hand, is going to take me home as his wife, even if he manages to string the bow – unlike you all. Leave him alone.”

“That he should marry you isn't our greatest concern”, Eurymakhos explained, “But we will become a collective laughing stock, when the people find out, that we failed to string your dead husband's bow, only to lose out to a beggar.”

“That's coming from _you_?”, Penelope retorted, “Your behaviour alone is a humiliation, that you intrude into another's home and waste wealth that isn't yours! Never once have you all acted like honest men! Furthermore, this man is well-built and prides himself in being a great man's son. If Apollon grants him victory, I will shower him with many gifts, so he may go on his way – and there is nothing you all can do about it!”

Telemakhos agreed, yet surprised his mother by sending her to her own quarters.

As Penelope left the room, Eumaios picked up the bow, handed it to Odysseus and then went to Eurykleia to instruct her as his king had told him earlier.

Philoitos skulked away to do his part of the plan and lock all the doors to the yard.

Odysseus took the bow and strung it with ease. As he tested the sinewy string, it vibrated musically under his fingers, like it was supposed to.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the suitors blanch. And they grew even paler, when he took an arrow and shot it through the twelve axes.

In that moment, it thundered.

He ripped his rags off, turned to his son and smirked: “Now, how about we serve these noblemen a supper like they've never had before?”

Telemakhos smirked back and pulled out his sword.

The first arrow hit Antinoos in the jugular, right as he was raising his cup.

The others jumped up, screaming reproaches at Odysseus.

But the hero growled darkly: “You dogs thought I would never return from Troy, did you? You plundered my property, had your way with my maids and wooed my wife, while I was still alive, but now you're going to pay!”

Eurymakhos tried to reason and promised rich compensation, but the answer was another death threat. So he spurred the other suitors on and they chose to fight, only to be felled by Odysseus' arrow.

Amphinomos attacked, but was slain by Telemakhos.

“Let me get you armour and more weapons”, he offered and his father urged him to do so, before he ran out of arrows. Telemakhos returned with a full armour and Odysseus put it on, once he ran out of ammunition.

One of the suitors sent Melantheus to fetch arms for the suitors. But the goatherd was soon spotted by Eumaios and Philoitos, who proceeded to bind him and tie him to a pole, before arming themselves and returning to fight by the side of their king and prince.

It was at that moment, that Athena came down, again in the guise of Mentor.

He obviously recognised her and asked for her help, while the suitors, who didn't recognise her, screamed for her to do the exact opposite.

This angered her and she spurred the war veteran on.

But before she would grant him a devastating victory, she wanted to feast her eyes on his battle prowess.

So rather than fighting along, she diverted the spears the suitors threw, while those of the four defenders hit their marks without fail.

After all four of them (she couldn't help but be surprised at the prowess of the cowherd and the swineherd) had slain about a dozen more suitors, she finally interfered for real.

She flew up to the ceiling and raised up the terrible Aigis.

The suitors froze in fear.

That just made it easier for Odysseus and his companions, who came upon them like birds of prey.

From here the suitors were massacred without mercy.

Only two men were spared at the request of Telemakhos: the singer Phemos and the herald Medon, who had both been made to serve the suitors against their will.

The two men were sent out and Odysseus looked around to check, if any of the suitors were still alive. But he and his son and comrades had slain them all.

Athena, having done her part for now, left.

“Go and get Eurykleia, my son”, Odysseus asked his son, “I need to talk to her.”

Telemakhos nodded and came back with the old nurse. When she saw her lord stand amidst all the corpses, like a lion or a wolf, she rejoiced.

But Odysseus shushed her. “Rejoice on the inside, old mother. It's not appropriate to cheer over slain men. I defeated them only, because the gods willed it so, for they showed no respect or reverence, while they were still alive. But now tell me, which of the maids are treacherous and which are innocent.”

“Of the fifty women who served your family, twelve betrayed them”, Eurykleia reported, “But now I will go upstairs and tell your wife, that-”

“Not yet”, Odysseus forbade. “First bring the traitors, so I may judge them. As for you three” – he turned to his son and the cow- and swineherd – “You can start carrying the bodies outside. Order the women to do the same and clean up the mess afterwards.”

This happened and once everything was clean and tidy, the guilty maidservants were driven into the yard and hung high.

Odysseus purified the halls with brimstone and Eurykleia called the remaining maids.

With tears of happiness, they embraced their king and welcomed him home.

And he also wept with joy, as he recognised them all.

Good Eurykleia ran upstairs to the chambers of Penelope as fast as her age allowed.

There she woke the sleeping queen: “Wake up, wake up, my dear child! Go downstairs, so you may see what you have been longing for for twenty years! Our lord, your Odysseus, he is finally home! He has destroyed the insolent suitors and he is back!”

Penelope glared weakly: “Have you woken me up, just so you could mock me? Have you gone mad, that you tell me such cruel things? I know it in my heart, my Odysseus is gone and will never come back to me.”

“I'm not mocking you, dear, I promise! He has been here for days now: it was the stranger the suitors always offended! Telemakhos knew the entire time, but kept it to himself, until all of the suitors were defeated!”

Now the queen leapt from her bed and tearfully hugged the older woman.

“Tell me all!”, she pressed, “The truth and nothing but the truth! How is it possible, that he alone defeated so many?”

Of course Eurykleia hadn't seen any of it; she had been in the servants' quarters with the other maids. But she told her queen what she knew.

Penelope was still in doubt though: “I don't believe it. It's too good to be true! Surely it was a god, who smote them all for their disrespect.”

“No, no! Listen; he has the scar on his thigh – the one he received, when a boar attacked him, while he was hunting with the sons of Autolykos. It's really him, I promise! If what I say is untrue, you may have me executed!”

The queen – wary as she was – still refused to believe her, but followed her downstairs anyway. Though Eurykleia could see that (deep down), the younger woman was hoping, even though she refused to act on it.

When they came into the great hall, Penelope saw Odysseus leaning against a pillar, waiting for whatever she would say upon seeing her husband.

But Penelope seemed dazed, almost numb even.

Telemakhos was frustrated by this and chided his mother: “What's with you? Why aren't you sitting with your husband and questioning him? Did you wait twenty years for him to come home, only to see him and just stand there and not even say anything? Has your heart turned to stone?!”

“No, no, I'm just stunned”, Penelope clarified, “My heart is so paralysed, that I can't bring myself to question him or even look him in the eye. But if he's really my Odysseus, I will find out myself.”

Odysseus chuckled: “Give your mother some time to let it sink in. Let her test me to her heart's content. She doesn't recognise me, because I'm looking so dirty and messy right now. But my son, we have some urgent matters to discuss. Don't forget, that we just killed the entire nobility of my kingdom and have to deal with the consequences.”

“Well, it's said that no mortal man can rival your cunning”, Telemakhos replied, “So, do you have a plan? Whatever it is, we'll follow you.”

“Good. And I do have a plan: order everyone to decorate the place, put on their best clothes and celebrate loudly, so that anyone who passes by might think that a wedding is taking place here. This ought to buy us some time, because no one must learn of the earlier massacre, before we have been to my property in the country and prayed to the gods, that they might give us a sign on how to proceed from there.”

The household staff did so and indeed, everyone outside thought, that Penelope had now chosen to marry one of her suitors.

Later that evening, Eurykleia drew a bath for Odysseus, salved him with olive oil and gave him fresh clothes and it seemed a god had made him look taller and more splendid.³

When he was all freshened up, he returned to where he had sat before.

“Still not looking at your husband?”, he asked Penelope, “Have I endured twenty years of hardship, only to come home to a wife, who ignores me and holds me in low regard?”

Penelope didn't answer, which frustrated everyone.

“Well then”, the king huffed, “Eurykleia, make me a bed somewhere, since I'll sleep alone tonight, apparently.”

Now Penelope finally spoke again: “I don't hold you in low regard at all, strange man. Eurykleia, go and make his bed in front of the bedchamber that he himself crafted a long time ago.”

Now she was testing, the old nurse could tell.

“What?!”, Odysseus exclaimed suddenly, “What is it that I have to hear? Only a god would be able to relocate my bed at all! I crafted the bedchamber around the huge olive tree, that was growing in the yard back then, and carved the bed with its wood, adorning it with ivory, gold and silver! It's impossible that anyone relocated it, let alone could push it through the door!”

But only Odysseus could know this and that was the irrefutable proof.

Now she burst into tears, embraced her husband and showered him with kisses. Odysseus cried also and held his wife tightly.

All the while Eurykleia was sobbing in the background, because now everything would be fine.

Athena smiled onto the scene.

Having done that part of her work, she saw herself out and went to persuade Êôs to postpone her tour across the sky for a few hours.

Her mortal friend and his beloved wife should have enough time to our their hearts out to each other and to get a little rest before the trouble that was to come soon.

Hermes laughed at the souls of the suitors, when he came to guide them to the underworld.

“I don't know, what you expected!”, he cackled, “Odysseus is my great-grandson! Whatever made you believe, that you could take what was his without consequence? Or that you could disrespect the laws of gods and men and get away with it? How could you think that we wouldn't favour him? Well, either way you got what you deserved!”

The souls whispered among themselves; they probably would have grumbled, but the dead had faint voices.

The Messenger of the Gods lead them to the underworld, snickering all the while.

As they came to the underworld, Hermes found some of the heroes of the Trojan War skulking around.

He lead the newcomers to the dock of Kharon and the ferryman began to take the first of them down the river (apparently they had been granted the tiny mercy of getting a coin for Kharon).

When they had arrived on the other side, the Achaeans were chatting among each other.

“What happened to you?”, Akhilleus asked Agamemnon, “I always was under the impression that Zeus liked you? So how come you died a miserable death, rather than getting a burial fit for a king?”

“You're lucky, that you died a glorious death at Troy”, Agamemnon replied, sullen. “You got a splendid burial befitting a great hero like you were.”

Then he proceeded to tell Akhilleus all about it, which was rather boring for some (including Hermes, who chose to leave them behind to visit Hades and Persephone).

“Even in death you were honoured above all others!”, Agamemnon finished his account of the other's burial, only to start wallowing in self-pity.

“And me? What did I get for surviving the war?! Get this! I just got home from Troy, when I was murdered by my cousin Aigisthos and my slut of a wife!”

“Oh, that's so tragic!”, Akhilleus replied sarcastically.

Agamemnon ignored him and let his eyes wander over the newcomers, until he spied a familiar face.

“Hey! I know you! You're one of Menélaos' bastard sons! What happened to you?”

“Odysseus happened!”, Amphimedon groaned, “To all of us here!”

Then he proceeded to tell his uncle all about how they had wooed Penelope, how she had put them off for four years, tricking them and of how Odysseus had finally come home and killed them all.

“Damn!”, Agamemnon exclaimed, “Odysseus, you lucky man! You got one of the few good women in this world for your wife! The world will forever praise her loyalty! Unlike the daughters of Tyndareus and most other women, who are fucking disloyal whores-”

“Hey!”, Akhilleus barked, “Take your unmanly misogyny and shove it up your arse! No one cares about your unjustified grudge on your wife, whose innocent daughter you tried to sacrifice to the gods, who _hate_ human sacrifice!”

Meanwhile Odysseus and Telemakhos had arrived at the home of Laertes, Odysseus' father.

“You and the servants go and prepare a boar for our meal”, Odysseus told his son, “I will see, if my father still recognises me.”

Then he went into the garden, where he found his old father tend to the plants.

Laertes looked so miserable and neglected, that Odysseus hid behind a pear tree and wept.

Once he had regained his composure, he approached the old man and addressed him: “Greetings, good man. You certainly are a talented gardener; none of the plants here look anything but splendid. I wish the same could be same for you. Please do not be angry, but you look awful. So, who are you and whose garden is this? Also, could you tell me, if it's really Ithaka I have come to? I have been marooned, so I'm not sure.”

Yes, he was about to weave more false identities.

“I met a man from Ithaka once and he boasted to be Odysseus, the son of Laertes. I hosted him, gave him many guest gifts and then he went on his way.”

Laertes looked up and responded: “This is indeed Ithaka, stranger. But Odysseus isn't here – instead bad and godless men are holding sway over this land. You poor man gave him presents in vain – if he was here and alive, he would gladly repay you in kind, as it's the custom. But he's gone, he'll never return …” He choked and cleared his throat. “But who are you and where do you come from? How much time has passed, since you welcomed Odysseus in your home?”

“My name is Eperitas, I come from Alybas”, the younger man lied, “And he came to my home five years ago. Oh, the poor man! And the omens seemed so promising, when he departed! He was so glad and eager to get home!”

Laertes broke into pitiful wailing, grabbed a fistful of ash and threw it onto his head.

Odysseus' heart broke and he hugged the other. “My dear father, it's me! Cry no longer, I'm not dead! I'm home! I have slain those who wooed my wife and ended their outrage!”

Laertes stared at the other. “What … is it really you?! Give me a sign, before I believe you!”

The younger man pulled up his chiton to reveal the scar on his thigh.

“Do you remember, when I grew to age and you sent me to my grandfather Autolykos and his sons, so that I might receive the gifts he had prepared for me? How I returned to you with the presents and this scar I got when I went hunting with my uncles and was attacked by a boar? And here another sign: when I was a child, you gave me many fruit trees: ten apple trees, thirteen pear trees, forty fig trees and hundred stocks of wine. And you promised me, that they all would carry heavy fruit and bring bountiful harvest. Do you believe me now?”

Laertes cried out in happiness and embraced his son tightly.

Then he fainted.

When he awoke, he found himself in his son's arms and cried some more, before taking a deep breath and calming himself.

“My dear and only son, I'm so happy! The justice of the gods still exists in this world, that you defeated all of the foes in your own home! But what shall we do now? You killed the entire noble population, the people will riot.”

“Don't worry about that yet”, Odysseus told him gently. “First let's go inside. We'll get you fresh clothes and a bath, also lunch will soon be ready.”

Inside the house Telemakhos and the two animal husbandmen were busy cutting the pork and mixing wine.

A maid drew a bath for Laertes and gave him good clothes.

When the former king came before his son and grandson, they marvelled.

“You look so much more gracious now”, Odysseus marked, “A god gave you splendour and made you taller, just like the Bright-eyed Goddess did for me!”

“Certainly”, the old man agreed, “But I wish they would have granted me the even bigger pleasure of being there yesterday to stand by you, when you fought off the suitors! You would have seen, that I still am capable of fighting!”

Odysseus almost chuckled at his father's zeal, but didn't want to seem condescending or doubtful.

When the two former heroes came into the dining halls, the servants ooh'd and aah'd, as they recognised their king.

“You can marvel later”, he told them, “It's time for lunch, as we're all hungry. Do sit with us! There is enough for all!”

Now the staff cheered and they all gave the long-lost ruler a warm welcome.

Unfortunately, while they were having lunch, Ossa, goddess of rumour, flew through the city and soon everyone had heard about the gruesome demise of the suitors.

Their relatives came to the palace to pick up the dead and bury them.

When they had done their work, Eupeithes, the father of Antinoos, rallied the people and riled them up.

“This man truly has done great wrong to us!”, he shouted, “Twenty years ago he took away many ships to Troy, only to return ten years too late and all alone. And now he has slaughtered all our children! Up, that we may avenge this misdeed done to our sons!”

But before the crowd could respond, Phemos the singer and Medon the herald, stepped forward.

“People of Ithaka! Odysseus did not act without the approval of the gods!”, Medon declared, “I myself saw a deity at the king's side and it was none other than the bright-eyed daughter of Zeus! She was wearing the guise of Mentor, but I saw her for who she was. She fought by his side, by instilling fear into the suitors and by giving him courage and strength. He had the favour of the gods and he was in the right. What happened was the will of Zeus.”

His words made the listeners shudder in fear.

Now another man rose to speak, Halitherses the prophet. “Hear me, men of Ithaka! It's because of your cowardice, that you are now burying your children! For you listened to neither me nor to Mentor, when we bid you to stop your sons' outrageous behaviour. You didn't stop them, when they committed blasphemous acts, harassed the wife of the best of men and wasted away his own property, believing he would never come home and make them face the consequences! So listen to my counsel for once in your lives: stay here, before a self-imposed doom meets you all!”

Half of the men screamed in protest at this suggestion, while the others heeded the prophet's words.

The crowd divided into two groups.

Eupeithes lead those who agreed with him into the country – thinking, that he would avenge his son, unaware, that he was on his way to meet his fate.

On Olympos Athena saw what was going on and went to her father to report.

“What is your plan, father?”, she wanted to know, “Will you cause more bloody conflict or shall there be peace?”

Zeus laughed: “My child, hasn't it been your plan all along, that your mortal friend should get home, take revenge on the suitors and reclaim his kingdom? Do as you please, but my will is this: now that Odysseus has avenged himself, let there be peace and companionship. Let the murder of their sons and brothers be forgotten. Let there be harmony among the people, companionship and bountiful harvest, as it was before.”

With gladdened heart Athena descended from Olympos to earth.

In the country estate, one of the servants looked out of the window, only to turn back to Odysseus, frowning.

“My king, I'm afraid we have company.”

He pointed to a nearby hill, where Eupeithes and his allies were already seen.

Quickly everyone leapt up from the table to don their armour and weapons.

As they were arming themselves, Athena joined them, again in the guise of Mentor.

Odysseus understood immediately and said to his son, grinning: “Now, my son, I will show you how it's done. You shall see how your father earned his glory in battle as well as in strategy.”

Telemakhos grinned back at him. “Father, you will see, that I'm not a coward and you won't be ashamed of my bravery in battle.”

“My son and my grandson competing in fighting prowess and bravery!”, Laertes rejoiced, “This is the best day of my life!”

“Mentor” smiled at the former hero and said: “Come, Laertes my old friend. You too should arm yourself and make a prayer to Zeus and the Bright-eyed Virgin.”

Then Athena breathed powerful valour into him.

With renewed strength and vigour, Laertes grabbed a spear and threw it right into the face of Eupeithes, where the helmet wasn't shielding it.

Meanwhile his son and grandson burst into the now leaderless ranks and slew their attackers left and right.

However before they could kill everyone, Athena decided, that playtime was over.

She appeared above the fray, that everyone froze in fear and/or reverence.

“Men of Ithaka!”, she announced with a thundering voice, “Cease the fighting and break apart, ere the earth is stained with your blood!”

After the parties had broken apart, Athena persuaded the quarrellers to make peace.

Thus ends the story of how Odysseus finally came home and regained his kingdom.

The stories of his deeds were passed on orally, from generation to generation.

Several centuries later, a blind poet dictated the glorious epics of the Iliad and the Odyssey to someone and they would be known for many more centuries to come.

Just like the name of the poet, who dictated them: Homer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Only certain parts of a sacrificial animal would go to the gods: the fat and bones. The rest would be kept by the mortals. According to myth, Prometheus tricked Zeus into this.  
> 2) Menélaos - just like Agamemnon - was the son of Atreus, who was a real nasty piece of work. So of course Menélaos would view Nestor, a far friendlier person, as more of a father figure.  
> 3) In the Iliad Odysseus is described as not being very tall and looking relatively unimpressive at first glance.


	17. Meanwhile ...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ares begins his world tour, encounters an old enemy of his and clears up a few things.

When Ares had chosen to leave for a world journey, Aphrodite and his children had tearfully said goodbye.

Hephaistos had been there too, although he given his older brother a warm grip of the hand, rather than shedding tears.

The rest of his family had also come to say goodbye.

“Take care of yourself”, Artemis had said, while giving him a firm hug.

Ares had laughed: “I'll do my best.”

“Don't get caught by giants and locked in a jar”, Hermes had grinned.

“Oh shut up, squirt!”, the war god had snorted and lightly slapped the Messenger's shoulder.

Hera had given her son an awkward hug; after the Trojan War things were more tense between them than usual.

Zeus had been more affectionate, giving his son a firm embrace and a kiss to the forehead (an extremely rare gesture of fatherly love from the King of the Gods).

“I suppose you will be gone for a few Olympian decades?”

“Yes, father. Seeing the world and getting to know new people takes a while.”

“Goodbye then, my son. Take care of yourself, as Artemis said. Don't forget to write. We want to know how you are doing and how it is, where you're staying.”

“Unless the place I get to doesn't have a writing system, sure!”

With that, Ares had spurred on his horses and left Olympos.

First he had gone to Thrace to say goodbye to his twin and his friends.

Enyo had tearfully begged him to stay or at least take her along, same as Eris.

But Ares had insisted, that he needed some alone time (although it had hurt him to leave his twin behind).

“I need someone to do my duties”, he had told her. “You're the only one who can, Enyo. Your domain is the same as mine. You guys just take care of my home, okay?”

Then he had left.

At first he toured around Hellas. It couldn't hurt to see what was going on and maybe check how the survivors of the Trojan War were doing.

Many of the Trojan women had died or worse, were living a miserable life as concubines.

Aineias, the son of Aphrodite, had gathered a few survivors and was now sailing the seas.

To his great delight, most of the Achaeans had met a bitter end: Agamemnon had been killed by his wife and her lover, Ajax the Lesser was dead, so were many others. And the best thing was, that his old enemy Diomedes had gone through some shit, only to come home to a nasty surprise.

Now the hero who had once wounded him and Aphrodite, was wandering the lands and seas in search of a place to live.

Ares couldn't resist the temptation and descended onto the earth.

Diomedes was done with everything.

He had almost drowned in a massive thunderstorm, then been washed ashore on the coast of Libya, only to nearly be sacrificed to Ares. Then he had landed in Attica, where the local king had mistaken him and his crew for pirates and had attacked them. And when he had finally come home to Argos, he had found his wife not only unfaithful to him, but also ready to kill him.

Now he had nowhere to go.

This moment he was walking through a forest, when he spotted a small river. Tired from the long march, he sat down, let his feet dangle in the water and sighed contentedly at the sensation.

“Feels nice, doesn't it?”

He jumped at the sound of the voice and hastily grabbed his spear.

But it was just a little girl sitting on a branch of a nearby tree, dangling a leg.

Except it wasn't.

Diomedes still had his enhanced sight and knew a god, when he saw one.

The _girl_ twirled _her_ auburn hair and eyed him with twisted curiosity.

“You look like life wasn't kind to you, sir”, _she_ noted.

He shrugged. “Is life kind to anyone?”

“To some”, _she_ replied. “You look like someone glorious. A hero. Isn't that a kindness of life?”

“I'm not so certain anymore.”

The _child_ giggled.

“You seem pretty happy”, he remarked.

“Likely happier than you”, the other teased. “Then again, heroes almost never get to live happily ever after, huh?”

Diomedes resisted the temptation to roll his eyes.

“Your disguise isn't very subtle, Lord Ares Polydakros¹.”

The other snickered and leapt off the branch. When his feet touched the ground, he had turned from a little girl to what was basically a human form of his divine shape.

It made the Argive shudder. He almost averted his eyes, but managed to steel his nerves and hold the other's burning gaze (though his body refused to stop trembling).

“So Glaukópis² let you keep your enhanced sight”, Ares noted. “Interesting. Not that it's of much use to you now.”

“Have you come to gloat?”

“Yes, actually. After your stunt back at Ilion³, it _is_ really satisfying to see you this humbled. And I don't even need to have revenge, because Aphrodite already had hers. Betrayal is a nasty thing, isn't it?”

The god's grin was twisted and way too broad. Obviously he was revelling in the other's discomfort and misfortune.

Diomedes refused to dignify the god's remark anyhow.

“But don't feel bad”, Ares chuckled, “It could be much worse. Most of the Achaeans drowned, Agamemnon was murdered and that psychopathic brat Neoptolemos was slain by Apollon's priests for some blasphemy a few days ago. Also, Menélaos, my half-sister Helene and Odysseus are all stuck far away from home. Compared to that, you got off easy!”

His smirk vanished. “You should be grateful, son of Tydeus. Considering the shit ton of murder attempts you escaped, you're actually really, really lucky.”

Diomedes bit his lip.

_So he isn't going to kill me, then._

“No”, Ares answered his thought. “I'm not.”

Diomedes took a deep breath and forced himself to stop trembling, before putting his spear down.

“You can't blame me for being afraid of you”, he told the god bluntly.

The Man-Slayer laughed: “I don't. Only a fool wouldn't fear war.”

“What do you want then – apart from gloating, obviously.”

“Give you a piece of my mind”, the war god replied bluntly. “Remember how my granddaughter Kallirhoë saved you from being sacrificed to me by my son? You could at least have thanked her.”

Diomedes blinked in confusion. “But I left her a letter?”

“Kallirhoë couldn't read, Diomedes.”

Oh. Oh shit.

“The Libyans don't have a writing system”, Ares explained, “And even if they did, she was mentally disabled. It would have been extremely hard for her to learn how to read, if at all. Not that it matters now; she's dead. Hanged herself, because you broke her heart.”

Shit times two.

“Of course killing you sounds tempting”, the god went on. “But luckily for you, my family has other plans for you. Don't think Athena has forgot you. After all, you and Odysseus have always been her favourites. So before I leave, one last piece of advice: take the next ship to Italy, find the last surviving Trojans, lead by Aphrodite's son Aineias and return the Palladion to them. Only then will your misfortune end, for even though you had Athena's approval, that doesn't change the fact that you robbed it.”

For a few seconds Diomedes considered, if this was a trap. But it sounded logical enough, so he memorised it anyways.

Ares stood up and unfolded a pair of huge red wings. Then he took to the air and was gone, leaving behind only a single red feather.

Diomedes knew better than to consider this a sign of goodwill.

Ares, having gained just a bit of closure, continued his tour.

He had seen what he had wanted to see. Now it was time to leave Hellas and explore the rest of the world.

He hadn't been to Aigyptos in quite a while. He had a few friends there, who would be delighted to see him.

“ARES! EYYY!”, Sekhmet roared in delight.

“EYYY, SEKHMET! SO GOOD TO SEE YA!”, Ares yelled back and they engulfed each other in a bone-crushing hug.

“IT'S BEEN SO LONG, MOTHERFUCKER! HOW ARE YOU DOING?”

“DOIN' GREAT, YOU BOSS ASS BITCH! AND YOU?”

“GREAT! THE OTHERS ARE TOO!”

“AWESOME!”

A dignified cough interrupted them.

“Can you two please stop yelling?”, Thoth asked. “It's headache-inducing. Apart from that, welcome, Ares. What brings you here?”

“I'm travelling the world!”, Ares beamed at the ibis-headed god. “Just started my journey and I wanted to see old friends, before I discover the rest. My presence won't be needed in the next centuries, so why not get away from it all and do something new?”

“That's fair”, Thoth agreed. “Sadly, none of us can leave Ta Meri⁴ right now; the earthly world is quite a mess.”

Ares frowned: “Yeah, back in Europa too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Polydakros: "Of Many Tears/Of Much Weeping", an epithet of Ares, referring to the woe and grief, which war brings.  
> 2) Glaukópis: "Bright-Eyed/Owl-Eyed", an epithet of Athena, because of her bright eyes, which depending on the source are either grey or blue (in my version they're blue).  
> 3) Ilion = Troy  
> 4) Ta Meri: "Beloved Land", one of the ancient Egyptian terms for ... well, ancient Egypt, as the word Egypt is Greek in origin. The Egyptians also called their country Kemet, "Black (Land)", referring to the fertile soil along the river Nile, which was very dark because of the yearly inundations. The desert parts of Egypt were referred to as "Ta Desheret", which means "Red Land" and was the domain of the goddess Sekhmet and the god Set (and some other deities associated with the desert.


	18. The gods during the dark age

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Olympians live their lives and Ares briefs them on his journey from time to time.

“My, those were a few messed up mortal centuries!”, Zeus exclaimed.

The legendary kings of old were no more and the last heroes had finally passed away; Menélaos and Helene, who had been granted a prolonged life, had died together and their souls had been carried away to Elysion, where many of their friends were waiting for them.

“Now that this mess is over, I think mankind should have a break – preferably several centuries.”

“U-huh”, Apollon agreed. “The Age of Heroes is over now. Soon the people who worship us will forget how to even write. The old cultures are dying.”

“So they won't remember us? We will be forgot?”, Hera asked, bewildered.

“Not really”, Zeus soothed his wife. “We will remain in their collective memories. In a few centuries, they will relearn how to record things and stories. They will remember us again and this time, they will write about us. Mankind won't forget us, just where our worship came from and who we once were.”

“But can't we just make them write everything down now, instead of letting them forget?”, Athena objected.

Zeus shook his head. “No, my child. We have been meddling way too much lately. Humanity doesn't need us now, it needs rest. It needs _time_.”

The goddess of wisdom sighed sadly, but didn't protest any further.

What were centuries to humans were but decades to the gods.

During that time, they focussed on their own lives.

And on their family.

Eris had damaged the bonds between the gods during the great war, but now it was time to repair their family ties.

Of course Eris and Ares' twin Enyo received a house ban; Zeus was now hundred percent done with the quarrelsome nature of his daughter and of the daughter of Nyx. Not only he – the other Olympians applauded, when he announced his decision.

It was a lot more peaceful and a lot more quiet.

Without Dionysos' constant partying it would have been _too_ quiet.

It had been ten Olympian years now and Ares was still travelling the world.

Sometimes he wrote letters to them, but he wasn't much of a writer and his messenger bird needed a while to get to Olympos from wherever its master was.

None of the Olympians would have admitted, that they were happy about the war god's letters. Except for Aphrodite of course; she was quite openly joyful every time the divine vulture arrived with as many letters as it could carry in its talons.

Today was such a day.

They were holding council, when Iris came in.

Zeus rose from his throne. “Iris, this better be an emergency. You know that no one is allowed to disturb the council meetings of the Dodekatheoi, unless the matter is important.”

Iris cleared her throat: “Forgive me, my king, but here is a letter from Ares.”

The meeting was forgot instantly and everyone jumped up.

The eleven Olympians gathered around the rainbow-haired messenger, until Hera snatched the roll of papyrus from Iris' hand.

“Let us see it!”, Aphrodite demanded.

“Everybody settle down!”, Zeus commanded. “Hera, give the letter to me. Let's gather around Hestia's hearth and I will read it to you all.”

So they all did.

Hestia eyed them curiously, as they all gathered around her warm and friendly fire.

“My dear sister, our goddess of the hearth”, Poseidon spoke, “We want to have a little family moment in your peaceful presence.”

Hestia smiled through her flame and it became just a little brighter, as her aura of domestic harmony spread out.

As they all sat down on the floor, Zeus unrolled the scroll and began to read:

“ _9 th Maimakterion¹ (I think)_

_Dear family,_

_sorry for not having written to you in a while. Been kinda busy lately. I just arrived here. I'm being on the move a lot, so I don't stay in one place for long enough to have something to write about …”_

Zeus huffed: “And he's not even telling us where he is!”

“Read on”, Hera urged.

Her husband went on: “ _I'm kinda on the other side of the world right now. Kinda boring here in Polynesia –_ oh, so that's where he is – _but it's fun to fly above the Pacific Ocean with the wind. The ocean is so huge, that I need ages to find the tiniest islands. And even longer to find islands where gods live. The communication is awkward, because I don't speak their language and vice versa. Worse, they seem to speak, if not a whole other language, then at least a different dialect on each island. Even using sign language is problematic sometimes. But they seem friendly enough and they do seem to understand the concept of host and guest exchanging presents. There are a few things I have memorised so far, mostly a bunch of prohibitions called Tapu². Some of them are pretty dumb, if you ask me. Then again, once I manage to tell them about my home land, they would probably think some of our traditions pretty stupid too (reasonably so, if you ask me). The peoples of Polynesia have no writing system and neither have their gods.³_

_So yeah. I'll be staying here for a few mortal decades. Boring as it is around here so far, it's also weirdly relaxing and maybe I will finally get the hang on those Polynesian languages and their culture, which is pretty similar between all these scattered islands (luckily for me). Perhaps then I'll be able to tell you guys more._

_That's it._

_Sorry for this letter being so short, but there really isn't much to write about right now (also I'm running out of writing material). Maybe I'll go to Australia next._

_Sending you gifts from the indigenous gods. They may be simple compared to the last ones, but they were made with love, so you better appreciate them._

_Lastly, I'm fine and hope you're too. I'll let you know, when I come to Australia and how long I will stay there, so you too can write to me and tell me how you're doing. I haven't heard from y'all in a while and … well, I just think about you guys a lot. Wish you were here._

_Love and miss you all and wishing you happy early or late birthday, because I can hardly congratulate you all punctually._

_Always yours, Ares.”_

Zeus rolled the letter up. “That's it. The letter really is way too short. Such a shame.”

“Show us, what else he sent us!”, Aphrodite demanded.

The King of the Gods rolled his eyes, but opened the magical bundle the letter had been attached to.

“Ah, look at that!”, he cried, when he pulled out a huge-ass shell. “I think that one is for you, brother.” And handed it to Poseidon.

The sea god laughed and cradled the shell in his lap.

Afterwards each and every of the Olympians received a present of some sort.

Athena grinned, when she was handed a harpoon.

“Don't even think about it!”, Poseidon snarled.

“Too late!”, the wisdom goddess smirked.

“Ah, this is also for you too, I think”, Zeus said, when he fished out a bundle of scriptures written on tree bark, probably because Ares had run out of papyrus.

Athena skimmed over a few of them and smiled. Ares had sent her an account about what he had understood about the culture of the people there so far. How thoughtful of him.

“Here are a few recipes for Hestia – oh, he even has some gifts for Hades and Persephone! Flower seeds and … oh great, more of those creepy masks. Hades will love them.”

“Did he not send anything for me?”, Hephaistos inquired glumly.

Zeus searched through the package. “Doesn't look like – ah, here! ' _Dear brother, sadly I haven't found a people that knows metal work so far, so have some photographs_.'”

The divine smith beamed and took the stack of photographs.

“Show them to us, pleeeease!”, Aphrodite begged.

Hephaistos handed them around, so the other gods could look at them too.

After the gods had passed the pictures around with lots of chatter, they each tucked their respective souvenirs away and sat in comfortable silence.

Eventually Aphrodite whispered: “I miss him so.”

“Me too”, Hephaistos agreed quietly.

“As do I”, Hermes admitted. “Even though he calls me squirt and pipsqueak all the time.”

Athena spied Zeus and Hera clasping each other's hand – they missed their son too, even though they didn't say it.

Even she herself did miss her prick of a half-brother.

It just seemed too quiet around here, even with Dionysos throwing a party at least once a week. It felt wrong, not seeing him every day, not hearing his dumb suggestions and annoying rambling about violence and the horrors of armed conflict, seeing his throne empty in the assembly … and having someone to spar with. She couldn't even train with Enyo, because the goddess of bloodlust and violence had a house ban (and Zeus was showing no sign of lifting it anytime soon).

Even not hearing the inevitable insulting nicknames felt off by now.

It was lonely without her volatile counterpart.

Not that she would admit it.

A few months later, the Olympians got a letter saying that he was in Australia.

“ _You wouldn't like it here”_ , Ares wrote. _“The part of the continent where I'm in is unbearably hot (the deserts of Egypt are a dream compared to that) and the gods around here are actually ancestral spirits, rather. They're really benevolent, but you wouldn't like their life style. They're nomads, which honestly is no wonder, because the great desert is … well, pretty damn dry, so staying in one place wouldn't make any sense. They live as hunters and gatherers, just like the mortals here do. Australia has a unique flora and fauna though. In other words, it's fine, if you're tough and can live without the comfort of our civilization._

_Btw, I've heard stories about a rainbow snake, who is asleep during dry season and shouldn't be woken up from their slumber. I think I'm gonna wake them up.”_

A few weeks later, he updated them: _“Waking up the Rainbow Serpent was a shitty idea. The indigenous gods and mortals are now pissed at my stupidity (and my disrespect). The Serpent was really pissed at being disturbed, caused one Tartaros of a thunderstorm and set the whole area underwater. But hey – this place really could use the rain.”_

The Olympians laughed; this was just such an Ares thing to do!

Not long after, they got a letter from the New World.

Ares was in South America and travelling up the continent. He would then move on to North America, he wrote, and once he was done there, he would cross the Atlantic and stay with the Norse gods for a while, before returning to Hellas and Olympos.

Zeus put the letter down and sighed: “I hoped that he would return to us right away, as soon as he's back on our continent.”

The other Olympians nodded glumly.

But there wasn't much they could do; they couldn't keep Ares from visiting his old friends, especially when he was so far away.

A few Olympian years later, Ares had finally got his arse up to leaving the Americas and the first European pantheon he stayed with was the Norse one.

“Welcome, Ares, son of Zeus!”, Óðinn greeted the Olympian. “Your father told us, that you were on a journey. I hope your travel was safe?”

“Yup!”, Ares grinned. “Safe and fun! Sorry for just showin' up here, but thanks for havin' me anyways. So good to be here and see y'all! How're ya doin'?”

“Just fine, thank you”, the one-eyed god replied.

“HOLY COW, ARES, IS THAT YOU?!”

Before Ares could respond, he was pulled into a bear hug by a giant of an As with flaming red hair and eyes.

“Hey, Þórr”, Ares choked, squirming in the thunder god's embrace. He didn't worry about the three-quarters-Jötunn crushing him, but damn, he couldn't breath!

“Oh, sorry!”, Þórr laughed sheepishly and put him down.

The Hellenic god gasped for air, before grinning from ear to ear. “Missed ya too, man!”

Ares, who wasn't exactly a small man either, still barely reached up to the Norse god's shoulder and had to stand on his tippy toes to hug the other back.

“What have you been up to?”, Þórr asked.

“Travelling the world, meeting new people, seeing new places – oh, hey, Týr and Freyja!”

“'Sup”, Týr responded and Freyja waved.

Óðinn cleared his throat: “Anyway, my friend, how about you settle down first? Let's find a place for you to stay. And once you have rested a little, how about we throw you a celebration worthy of a divine guest such as you?”

Ares beamed: “Awesome! Your hospitality is one of the greatest things around here – apart from your battle prowess, of course!”, he added with a wink and everyone laughed.

He was received with all honours and it had been a while since he had felt home like this.

The panthea abroad had been nice and all, but their definition of hospitality was completely different, sometimes downright dubious. This was what he knew; the Germanic and Hellenic peoples had their hospitality in common. And the crazy parties of the Norse gods were right up his alley.

He had been invited to stay in the halls of Óðinn himself and that was fine with him. While the one-eyed god had his own brand of creepiness (which was reflected in his Kenningar: _Raven God, Father of the Slain, Father of Victory, Hanged God, Foretelling God_ …⁴) he was a fine host … most of the time.

That evening he was laughing and dancing with his hosts (and watching out for a certain trickster, who likely would try to prank him).

A few of the gods were looking on in envy, as Ares danced wildly with Freyja, laughed heartily with Þórr and even had an arm wringing match with Óðinn (turned out the Allfather was a lot stronger than he looked) which ended in a draw.

There was some amusement, when Ares got into a little spat with Óðinn's blood-brother Loki.

The trickster had the tendency to roast everyone, when he was drunk – good to see, that this hadn't changed in all those centuries.

The Æsir just rolled with it, obviously having heard it all before.

Ares on the other hand (though he too was used to being roasted) had no intention to let it slide and perhaps escalate; this was a party, not an assembly or battlefield.

After a short banter with the trickster (that he lost, because even drunk Loki was more eloquent and witty than him), he just made short work of it and carried the smaller god off, to where he knew Loki's own house to be.

“Foxy jerk made trouble again?”, Sigyn deadpanned, when she saw her drunk husband squirming on the taller god's shoulder.

“Just some roasting”, Ares told her and dropped the fire giant unceremoniously. “Not really trouble. Still, I think he needs a nap.”

“Sure does”, Sigyn snarled.

Ares almost laughed, when the tiny goddess dragged Loki off, grumbling about how “the foxy jerk” made nothing but trouble and so on.

_Olympos, 4 th Poseideon⁵_

_My dear love,_

_thank you for telling us you're in Asgard._

_Your children and I have been anxious, since you haven't written to us in a while._

_We're doing okay and it's good to know that so are you._

_We hope you have lots of fun in Asgard._

_But you really should come home soon._

_We miss you all so terrible, even your parents and – you won't believe it – even Athena misses you! Of course she would never admit that, but I know she does; women just know these things, you see. Things down on earth are starting to get interesting too. This one city in Italy, Rome is its name, is showing great ambition. The Italian gods are starting to get more ambitious too. Venus is a bit obnoxious at times and it pisses me off, because Aineías was_ my _son, not_ hers _! And don't get me started on Mars – I know, you hate him._

_But to more pleasant things; the rest of our family is okay too, but your father has been very glum lately, I don't know why._

_Hephaistos is working on improving his far-speakers and cameras even further, though he did that just last year. Oh well, I guess a genius is never truly satisfied._

_Eris and Enyo are alright too, I think. At least Athena says so – she meets them more often than I do. Athena is in a bad mood, because she has no one to spar with – she's complaining that sparring with Enyo just isn't the same._

_But I must go now, your mother is stress-baking again and I want to get at one of her delicious cakes._

_I love you lots, we all do._

_And we miss you._

_Please be back soon, Ares._

_In love, Aphrodite._

Ares grinned and tucked the letter into his magical bag.

“So Daddy's Owl misses me too, huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Maimakterion: the Attic month from November to December. I allowed myself a small anachronism here, because the Attic calendar was likely invented just a bit later than where my story currently is. The Attic calendar is a lunisolar calendar and was used in Athens. The month Maimakterion is named after an epithet of Zeus.  
> 2) Tapu: "Consecrated/Forbidden/Prohibited/Cursed" (also "tabu" or "kapu", the spelling and precise meaning depend on the region), the traditional prohibitions of the Polynesian peoples. The origin of the word "taboo".  
> 3) The only known exception is the Rongorongo glyph system from the Easter Island, which hasn't been deciphered yet.  
> 4) Those are genuine epithets of Odin.  
> 5) Poseideon: the Attic month from December to January. I think you can guess who this one is named after.  
> Bonus: I sincerely apologise for my treatment of Australia. I had to write this from the POV of an entitled Greek god who is used to ... well, Greek culture. And the ancient Greeks were rather snobbish towards the rest of the world.


	19. The Roman gods visit and Ares returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ares comes home just in time to settle an international dispute.

One day the Olympians were sitting at breakfast, when Iris came in with a piece of papyrus.

“Your Majesty”, she addressed Zeus, “The Italic gods have announced their visit. They will come next month and they're not taking no for an answer.”

Zeus retained his genial smile, but the sky outside grew dark with storm clouds.

“Also”, Iris added, “The sons of Mars have founded Roma – or rather, Romulus did¹. Looks like this new city is populated by fugitive criminals and other refugees. And they're already starting military campaigns to take over the rest of Italy.”

The King of the Gods grit his teeth: “It's only been a few mortal centuries, since Aphrodite's son Aineías arrived in Italy and the gods and mortals there are already getting dangerously ambitious, aren't they?”

“Iupiter, Iuno and all the others! Welcome to Olympos!”, Zeus welcomed the Italic-now-Roman gods.

“ _Gratias ago²_ ”, Iupiter replied tonelessly and let one of the servants help him out of his chlamys.

“It's a joy to see you all”, Zeus lied, “I hope you had a nice journey. How are you doing?”

Before Iupiter or one of the others could answer, Mars (Ares' Roman colleague) scoffed: “Don't slip on your slime trail, Olympian!”

The Olympians all were offended and glowered at him.

Iupiter saw himself forced to rein his stepson³ in: “Mars, hold your tongue. We are guests here and you have to be respectful to your host. Besides …”

The leader of the Roman gods whispered something in the war god's ear and Mars smirked.

Iupiter turned back to Zeus: “Do forgive my son's behaviour. He has been so proud of his descendants lately, sometimes he forgets his manners.”

“It's forgiven”, the King of the Olympians lied.

Nothing was forgiven, but no one wanted to start an argument.

Athena fumed at the disrespect towards her father and couldn't help throwing death glares at Mars.

_By Khaos, I wish Ares was back!_

Over the next hours the atmosphere on Olympos was so tense, you could have cut it with a knife.

Athena was not willing to let go the treatment of Zeus by the Romans.

For her father's sake, she was polite to them, but inside her anger was rising and she was plotting how to kick Mars' sorry arse without breaking the laws of hospitality.

She also really disliked Minerva. Her Roman counterpart seemed to be copying Athena in her mannerisms, while at the same time being pettier and crueller than Athena actually was.

The other Romans were behaving politely, but there was something about them, that put the goddess of wisdom even more on edge than she already was.

Like they were plotting something.

 _They're getting ambitious_ , her father had said a month before. And he seemed tense – nervous, even. Zeus was precognitive – whatever they were plotting, he had to know.

 _What do they want?_ , Athena wondered.

After eating and drinking in moderation, their guests announced, that they wanted to discuss international politics.

The Italic-now-Roman gods were given the thrones the Olympians always kept for their foreign guests.

Zeus called not only the Olympians, but every single one of the important gods, even of the Theoi Khthonoi.

Once all gods were assembled, Hermes announced: “Present gods, goddesses and others, both Hellenic and foreign – the council meeting to discuss the future relations between Hellas and Roma is hereby opened! Everybody take their seats!”

Everyone sat, except for Hermes himself, who stood next to his father's throne as his herald.

After Zeus opened the council meeting with his mandatory speech, he asked the Roman gods to elaborate on what they wanted here.

It was Iupiter, who stood and spoke: “Our esteemed colleagues. We are here, because we couldn't help but notice, that there has been a change in your correspondence with us in the last centuries.”

“The tone in your letters to us has changed”, Mars clarified and glared at the Olympians. “You have grown rather condescending. Whoever is doing your correspondence now-”

“That's me”, Athena spoke up.

Mars' eyes narrowed. “ _You_ do the correspondence? Where is Ares?”

What he really meant was obvious: a woman was performing the duties of Zeus' heir?

Minerva, who was standing next to Mars, must have heard the underlying statement too and elbowed him slightly.

Athena took a deep breath, before answering: “Ares is not here. As for the correspondence, would you be so kind as to enlighten me what you found so condescending about my responses? I thought I was being nothing but polite and respectful.”

Now it was Roma (the goddess of the newfound city), who replied: “You can't expect a city, that has just been founded to already have a fully developed culture and set of traditions. Each and every one of your letters had that certain tone, which comes from someone who thinks their culture is superior in every way and that everyone else is a bunch of savages.”

Athena started at her. “How dare you! Such an accusation! I would never-”

Mars interrupted her: “We are willing to overlook this, under the condition, that you apologise-”

“What is this?”, Hera shouted suddenly and jumped up. “You just founded one new city (and one composed of criminals and fugitives at that!), the sons of Mars are distant descendants of one of us on their mother's side, you're already in political trouble and yet you act like you're better than anyone else and like everybody should do what you want? We Hellenes might be arrogant, but at least we mind our own business! Athens is inventing democracy, Sparta is a military power, we have great writers already and the Cretans invented ironmaking many centuries ago. While you people-” angrily she pointed at the Roman gods, “-are making your culture by stealing from others, robbed the daughters of other Latin tribes, because you had no female population and you're subduing the gods of the surrounding areas! You haven't even appointed a god of music yet! What do you have to show for your attitude?!”

“Hera, hold your tongue-”, Zeus began, but it was too late.

Mars was already standing up. With a seemingly relaxed grin, he strode up to the Queen of the Olympians, until he stood right in front of her.

Everything about him screamed danger and Athena instinctively went for her sword.

“What we have to show?”, Mars sneered. “The future, Queen. A glorious future. One day, everything from Palmyra to Britannia will belong to _us_ – and us alone. The Mediterranean Sea will be _our_ sea and all nations around it (yours too) will be _our_ provinces. As for our want of a music god, we can easily fix that. For that I will gladly wait a few hundred years. What are a handful centuries to someone, who lives forever, am I right?”

“Don't be so cocky, Mars!”, A new voice spoke up, “Wait a few centuries more than that and your empire will break apart again. That's what empires do – they rise and fall.”

Everyone looked around to see who had spoken.

Athena was the first to spy him and she would rather have cut her tongue off, before admitting that her heart maybe leaped just a little: there, on a column beside the entrance leaned her long-absent half-brother, obviously enjoying how everyone was suddenly staring at him.

Ares smirked: “Ya guys just can't live without me for long, can ya?”

Aphrodite cried out in delight and immediately glomped her long-absent boyfriend.

Ares chuckled fondly, but wound himself out of her embrace. “I missed ya too, gorgeous, but we gotta postpone it for now. Sorry.”

The goddess of love pouted, but let go.

Zeus stood up to greet his son. “My son! Welcome back! It's so good to have you back again. And your timing is perfect too.”

“I can tell!”, the war god laughed. “I heard about this conference and decided to come back a little earlier. But it's good to be back – even with _those_ guys around”, he added with slightly less warmth and his smile vanished.

Then he walked up to the Roman gods.

“So you call yourselves Roman now. Loki told me, when I was in Asgard. Salve⁴, Iupiter”, he greeted their leader with reserve, before walking down the row. “Salve, Iuno. Minerva and Diana. Venus and Ceres. Mercurius, Neptunus and Vulcanus. Vesta's stayed home, I see. And you must be Roma – it's a pleasure to finally meet you face to face, I've heard of you.”

Roma replied: “The pleasure is mine. Father told me about you as well.”

“Ah yes. Your father.”

Ares' red eyes grew cold, when he faced his colleague. “So we meet again, Mars. What gives my family and now me the dubious honour?”

“You didn't hear that part, then?”, Mars replied coolly.

“Nope. Just arrived.”

“It was Athena's lack of tact in her correspondence with us.”

“Again”, Athena piped up, “I don't understand what was so tactless about it.”

Ares intervened: “There is a solution to that problem. Come on, everyone …”

He strode across the hall and sat on his throne, which had been vacant for almost 400 mortal years. “Now it's time for politics.”

Ares was actually positively surprised, when he was told what the matter was.

As it turned out, it had just been a cultural misunderstanding.

“You must understand”, he told the Roman gods. “Athena doesn't mean any harm or offence. She's not naturally tactless or arrogant, but you see … she's a homebody, our goddess of wisdom. She's never left Hellas before, except for the International High Council, during which she never really interacted with foreign gods, except for the Egyptians and the ones of the Middle East. This was the first time she was actually tasked with international affairs and she couldn't know about all the cultural differences. Maybe she assumed, that yours is like ours, because so many of your mortal kind descended from Trojans or Hellenes.”

“I did”, Athena admitted shamefully.

Ares went on: “These things just happen, when you interact with a strange culture for the first time. Remember how I acted during our first meeting? I admit, my own memory is a bit rusty on that one, but didn't I say something about Minerva being a petty little pipsqueak and Mars being a tight-ass, after Mars called me an 'illiterate psychopath'?”

Some of the Roman gods chuckled at the memory.

The war god finished his speech: “But I learned my lesson after interacting with you more and I know Athena will learn hers too. This won't happen again. For this once, cut her some slack and don't begrudge her social awkwardness. She just needs to get out a little more. These cultural miscommunications happen all the time – speaking from experience. After all, I did just come back from a world journey, on which I encountered people I never actually met before. Lots of awkward moments, I can tell you!”

More laughter on the Roman side.

Knowing that the waters were now soothed, Zeus entertained the Roman gods for just a bit longer, before they decided, that all matters were resolved and left Olympos.

After them, the non-Olympian gods also went home.

As soon as the Olympian gates closed behind all of them, Ares sighed in relief.

_That was kinda close!_

He just about got to finish the thought, before Aphrodite was all over him again and covering his face in kisses. Within seconds the other Olympians were also there and hugging their newly-returned member (except for Athena, Ares noticed – but she did look, like she wanted to).

Dionysos grinned up to his oldest half-brother: “Can we finally celebrate, that you're back? I already have the biggest party in millennia planned out!”

“I can't wait for it!”, Ares laughed. “I missed your parties and your wine, you have no idea!”

Then there was some more chatter and laughter, before Zeus backed off and cleared his throat.

“My dear family”, he began, “After almost four hundred mortal years of absence, my son has finally come home again. So it's only right, that we should celebrate it with all splendour and honour. Ares …”

Alright, maybe the war god got a little misty-eyed, when his father gave him that special warm smile, which he got so rarely to see.

“Welcome home, my dear son.”

And maybe Ares grinned like an idiot, when he gave his father a big hug.

“Thanks, father”, he whispered to the other.

“ _Blegh! I'm going to puke!”_

_Shut up, man, I'm having a moment!_

The voice in his head shut up and now Ares could finally concentrate on the moment completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Rome was traditionally founded in 753 BCE, this chapter is set around 700 BCE.  
> 2) Latin for "Thanks".  
> 3) Iuno conceived Mars by touching (or eating, depending on the version) a magical flower, upon the advice of the goddess Flora, when she complained about Iupiter conceiving Minerva without a mother. Thus he's not Iupiter's biological son.  
> 4) Latin for "Hello". "Salve" is used, when talking to one person, the plural is "Salvete". Another, usually more formal greeting formula is "Ave" ("Greetings").


	20. Homecoming party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ares has some fun and also cheers up Athena just a bit.

Ares never would have dreamed, that his family would be so happy to see him, that they would throw such a huge party to celebrate his homecoming.

And never would he have dreamed, that he would be so happy to be here with all of his stuck-up relatives, that he would be glad to have them and their oh-so-civilised lifestyle again.

But here he was, among his loved ones after mortal centuries of being so far away.

He was in the arms of his little sisters and brother, surrounded by the sound of his half-siblings' laughter, their music and singing, the sweet and etheric scents of home, the sight of his smiling parents, the beauty of home.

And Aphrodite, his beloved Aphrodite, his life, heart and soul, tamer of his wrath, soother of his inner demons, mother of his dear divine children, and he was holding her in his arms, kissing her, smelling her tantalising scent, looking into her pink eyes, feeling her joyful tears seep through his chiton and thought that, right there and right now, he was the happiest god in the world and oh, how he loved her so!

Of course he had missed them all, but he hadn't known just how much, until now.

The happiness was so overwhelming that he almost started bawling in front of everyone. But his pride kept him from doing so, he had a reputation to uphold after all.

Instead he announced, that he had something to say.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked over to listen.

“I'll make it short”, he spoke. “When I left here, I was really eager to leave and glad to get away from y'all, because in the years before you'd been even more dickish than usual.”

There were a few agitated murmurs here and there and Hera glared at him. Ah, his mother dearest hadn't changed at all).

Ares ignored it and continued: “But you're my family and at the end of the day I love you all more than I hate you sometimes. Bein' away for a few months to cool off is one thing, but after spendin' several centuries away from Olympos, it's really a whole different experience to come home again. It was fun to travel the world, but still, it's good to be back. Guess there really is no place like home. Bottom line is, I missed you all. I'll soon be back to my usual business again, but for now I just wanna be happy to be home and that you're receivin' me so well. Never thought I'd see the day when you're all happy to see me – yeah, even _you_ , Daddy's Owl! Don't think I didn't notice!”, he added playfully and everyone laughed.

Athena huffed and looked away.

Ares laughed, but decided not to tease her further for now.

“That's it!”, he closed his speech and threw his arms up. “Time to let the party commence!”

These words were met with cheers.

It really was the party of millennia, just like Dionysos had promised.

Everyone had fun, there was laughter, the food and drinks were even better than Ares remembered, he was the centre of attention in a positive way and he savoured it all, because today he could pretend that he wasn't one of the most unpopular deities in the pantheon.

Just for this night, they seemed like a normal rich family.

He was laughing, smiling and dancing with Aphrodite, Artemis and his mother, joking with Dionysos and Hermes and playfully bickering with Apollon and Hephaistos.

However, after he had danced with Aphrodite for the third time, he noticed that one goddess was sitting in a corner, moping and looking down.

“'Scuse me, love”, he told the love goddess and danced his way through the crowd to where Athena was sitting.

Athena groaned in frustration, when Ares came over and sat next to her.

“Oi, Daddy's Owl! What's with that's face? C'mon, I know you're not into this, but this is still a party! And you're sulkin' in a corner?”

She glared at him. “Well, maybe I want to sulk! Leave me be and go dance with Aphrodite or Artemis!”

“Aphrodite is dancin' with Dionysos”, Ares replied and pointed to where the goddess of love was dancing with the god of drag queens so wildly, that the other dancers kept a save distance.

“And Artemis with Hermes.” There was the huntress merrily dancing with the messenger.

“And I'm not gonna dance with my little brother, that's gay.”

“Hephaistos is paraplegic”, Athena pointed out.

Ares grinned: “So? That's never stopped Aglaia. Oh look, Dite's dancin' with him now!”

Indeed she was, pushing his wheelchair along to the rhythm, while Hephaistos was laughing and holding on to the arm rests.

“As you see, Daddy's Owl-”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Nah. As you see, everyone's hitched, so you're not gonna get rid of me for now.”

She groaned: “Oh for the love of Khaos, Ares! What part of 'leave me be' do you not understand?!”

Ares only rolled his eyes. “Come on, don't be like that! I just saw you being all depressed and stuff and I want to know what the matter is. Just tell me and I'll leave you alone! Now spill it, because hanging out with you isn't any less dull than it was forty Olympian years ago!”

“I see, you're still a tactless prick.”

“Owl, I haven't changed for many thousand years, so why would I now?”

Athena sighed: “Well, as humans say, hope dies last.”

“Cute. Still not going away.”

“If I tell you, will you really leave me alone?”

“Cross my heart.”

The war goddess rolled her eyes. “Alright, fine. I'm angry at myself. That incident with the Roman gods … I can't believe this happened! How could I have made a diplomatic blunder like that! Our pantheon got into trouble, because of my careless assumption that the Romans are like us and think the same way we do. I didn't even bother to fact check that assumption and with that I endangered us all. This is unforgivable. And the one to resolve the issue was _you_! You, of all the people! How? How did you, the god of terrible war and bloodshed, ace this situation and appease those foreigners, while I, the goddess of wisdom and good counsel made this fatal mistake?! _How_?!”

Ares smiled lopsidedly. “Well, what can I say? I can be really diplomatic if I wanna be. Remember what I told y'all forty Olympian years ago, during the Sack of Troy? Since I'm Dad's only legitimate son, that makes me the crown prince. And as such, I bear high responsibilities. I've been doin' his correspondence, ever since I grew to age. Dad would take me to international meetings to meet gods from other places, so I'd get to know them, learn how they roll – ya know, the works. I had to grow into it too, but I've had ten thousands of years to figure it all out. I just have that much practise. How long have you been doin' my paper work?”

Athena scratched the back of her neck. “Since shortly after you left. I offered father to help him with the paper work in exchange for a favour and he was all too happy to oblige.”

Ares chuckled: “Yeah, reckon he was. Bet he has forgotten just how much of his paper stuff I actually do, when I'm not bein' the black sheep of the family an' makin' mortals killin' each other for sports. Did he think you could handle it without so much as a briefing? I mean, don't get me wrong-”

“We both thought so”, Athena admitted quietly.

The older god shook his head. “Yeah, suspected as much. Sorry, Owl, but ya overestimated yerself there. Complaints an' revenge prayers of mortals an' minor gods to Zeus are easy to get rid of. International affairs are a whole different matter. As I told the Roman gods earlier, you're so introverted, ya don't talk to foreigners enough. If ya don't get out and meet people, you'll remain completely clueless about the rest of the world. These people don't think like we do. Trust me, no one knows that better than I. Happens more than often, that I make mistakes when I interact with foreigners people for the first time. I mean, you've read my letters from abroad. Cultural misunderstandings, losses in translation and what not.”

She didn't answer.

She was too busy grappling with the humiliation of getting a lecture on diplomacy from Ares of all gods.

The war god pat her shoulder in sympathy. “Hey now. Don't beat yourself up over it. Shit happens. Besides, how could you predict that the Romans would be offended over such a stupid little thing? It's as I told them, there was no way you could've known. Just give those duties back to me, now that I'm back. And maybe spend your free time hanging out with others more. Make some new friends, especially abroad. You always liked to learn new stuff, didn't ya? Trust me, it'll do ya a world of good. An' you know what? Let's forget, that I just gave you a talk on communication with outsiders too. We'll never speak of it again. Promise.”

Athena gave him a suspicious look. But his expression was genuine and so she nodded.

“Yes, for that I would be quite thankful indeed.”

Ares laughed: “Awesome! Hey, how about a dance?”

She stared at him. “I don't dance, Ares. Also, you promised you would leave me alone, after talking to you about my problem.”

The war god shrugged. “Guess I did. Still a shame though. Dancing is one of those things you gotta try out at least once. Oh well, suit yourself.”

Within a moment's notice he was back on the dance floor and dancing with his sister Hebe.

Athena stayed in her corner, albeit with her mood significantly improved.


	21. A new age

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ares catches up to the new times.

Ares had been surprised, when Zeus had informed him, that the gods had retreated from Earth for several mortal centuries.

But he was delighted, when he was told, that the divine break was ending.

“This is the dawn of a new age, my son”, he said. “And I trust, that you will be there doing your duties, if not more.”

“As usual!”, Ares laughed, “And I think I'm puttin' Sparta further up my list! They're lookin' promising and I think they need a patron god again.”

“All states in Hellas do”, Zeus chuckled. “Apollon and I are reviving our oracles, Aphrodite's cult is expanding, Athena is instructing her city via dream oracles … and the Spartans will love you, Ares. Surely you will love them too: they're a culture after your heart. And I predict that in the future centuries Spartans and Athenians won't have the best relations, so I'm sure you will have some epic battles with Athena's people.”

Ares' crimson eyes sparkled with delight.

“I fuckin' love this new era already!”

.

Over the first weeks after his homecoming, he had questioned everyone about what had gone down during his absence.

Most wasn't really interesting, but when Artemis informed him, that the Amazons were dwindling, she could tell that he was dying a little on the inside.

“I'm sorry”, Artemis told him sadly, “I've done all I could. But it looks like they'll be gone within a few centuries.”

“It doesn't matter anyhow”, he sighed. “I'll be there for them till the end. That's what I promised Otrera on her deathbed.”

Artemis nodded.

She remembered the first Amazon queen and how much Ares had loved her – he had even gone so far as to enter a semi-marriage with her (the closest Ares had ever got to being married, as marriages between gods and mortals weren't acknowledged as such). And how could he be blamed; Otrera had been an exceptional woman. The kind of exceptional you would only meet once a few centuries.

“Can I tell you something, Artemis?”, Ares asked suddenly.

“Sure, that's what friends are for, right?”

“Okay … I don't think I'll ever have mortal children again.”

That made her blink. “Ares, are you sure about that? Knowing you, you'll still fall in love with mortals in the future and that stuff just happens. Besides, didn't you always love being a dad?”

“Sure”, Ares nodded, “I love my divine children and I loved my mortal ones, every single one of them. Ya know, I still remember that Penthesileia's favourite colour was sky blue, that she had my eyes an' was one Tartaros of a little screamer as a newborn. Askalaphos was more of a mama's boy, brown eyes, brunet an' such and he really liked dancing, just like I do. Alkippe was more quiet and timid, she loved sittin' an' daydreamin' under the olive tree in Athena's temple in Athens. Hippolyta was so stoked, when I gave her that new girdle for her birthday. Nisos thought he looked really stupid with that magical purple curl I gave him to make him invincible. Diomedes was crazy about the horses I gave him. Kyknos had a terrible sweet tooth …”

“Ares, you're rambling.”

He chuckled bitterly: “Right. Sorry. What I mean is just … it hurt to lose them. It hurt so much. Even if they were mortal and I knew they would inevitably die, having to see that and bein' unable to do anything about it … and look at the terrible things that happened to them! Penthesileia was slain by Akhilleus, Askalaphos fell when that bastard was busy being all butthurt in his tent and refusing to fight, Hippolyta, Diomedes and Kyknos were killed by Herakles, Nisos was betrayed by his own daughter and don't even get me started on what happened to Alkippe! She was never the same afterwards!¹ So few of my children got to live a happy, carefree life without havin' it taken away by some jackass. What's the point of having a kid, if you don't get to see it live happily, especially, when their life spans are so short? Ya know what I mean?”

Artemis couldn't relate, but she supposed that he had a point there. Besides, less sex was always good and turning a new page was even better.

“Well, I support you”, she offered. “And not just because I'm a virgin goddess.”

The war god chuckled and gave her a loose hug.

“Thanks, pal. You're a good friend.”

Artemis laughed quietly, returned the hug and pat his back.

“You know, Ares, you're not half that bad of a friend yourself.”

.

It was the time, which would later be known as the Archaic Period among humans.

The Olympians themselves called it the Age of Rebirth.

Which was as theatrical as they were, but not entirely wrong.

The gods were once again holding their hand over mankind and their worship rose anew.

They had introduced humans to the games they liked to play from time to time, thus inventing the Olympian Games.

Athena was busy these years. She was bringing arts, crafts and literature in Athens back into swing.

Hermes retaught the mortals how to write – a skill that had been largely forgot over the last centuries.

Apollon had dedicated himself to his music and the Delphic oracle, while the Mousai inspired poets, who would become very famous later on.

Ares was busying himself with Sparta, a Polis, which had always been warlike and now seemed to be levelling up. He was spreading his own philosophies (if they could even be called that). Sparta was beginning to expand over Lakodaimonia and already had conquered Kythera.

Aphrodite was worshipped as what she once had been: Aphrodite Areia, goddess of love, fertility and _war_ , equivalent to Astarte and Inanna. She was proud of that, although Zeus had warned her, that soon most people would only see the love and beauty aspect of her.

Everything was new.

New empires were forming, coming to leave their mark in history.

The empires of old had fallen, most of their knowledge and traditions lost. Some would remain lost forever, some be found again one day, but that day was far, far ahead in the future.

Of all the empires of old, only Egypt was still there, however nothing was left of its former greatness. At least they hadn't forgot how to write – their traditions had remained.

The old times were only remembered in song and art, albeit mostly embellished and exaggerated.

It was a new age.

It was meant to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Alkippe was raped by Hallirhothios (in some sources he just attempted to, but Ares caught him), a son of Poseidon, who then was killed by the furious war god. Poseidon had Ares tried for the murder, but the other Olympians acquitted him of the murder.


	22. Owls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a nice, relaxing chapter about sibling teasing.

Athena was sitting on the stairs of the porch of her palace, a scroll of papyrus in her lap and writing equipment at her side.

She had been writing something, but somehow got distracted by her own thoughts.

The downside of being wise and intelligent was, that you inevitably ended up having a lot on your mind and being agelessly immortal and older than mankind itself didn't exactly make it better.

“Hey, Daddy's Owl!”

Athena groaned and glowered at her older brother, who was striding up to her without even asking for permission to enter her domain. “Don't call me that.”

He smirked: “Why not? After 37 500 Olympian Years, you're still daddy's 'little Owl-Eye'!”

Her glare intensified. “Calling me that is solely _his_ privilege. And I never gave you permission to pervert our father's petnames for me!”

His smirk widened: “We both know that I do what I want most of the time. But I could always call you 'Miss Smartarse' again, if that's what you prefer.”

“Don't you dare. Also, get off my property. There is a sign at the gate, that says 'No entry without permission'!”

Ares laughed: “I know! Believe it or not, I can read and understand my own native languages. I just don't give a fuck!”

“Yeah, I can tell”, she grumbled and returned her attention to her scroll. If she ignored him, he would get bored and go away, or at least she hoped so.

No such luck, though.

“Don't you have anything to do?”

“Nah. I'm just bored outta my mind. But tell me, whatcha doin', Owl?”

She groaned in frustration: “It's 'what are you doing', how many times do I have to tell you that?! Well, obviously I'm writing!”

“No, you're not. You've been starin' into the air for the last fifteen minutes.”

“How the Tartaros do you know that?! Have you been standing there and watching me all this time?!”

“Pretty much.”

“Why the fuck would you stare at me for over quarter an hour?!”

The war god shrugged. “Dunno. But like I said, I was bored and had nothing to do.”

“That's creepy.”

“I know, that's why I do it!”, he cackled. “What were ya thinkin' about that distracted you from your writin'?”

Athena glared daggers at him. “That's for me to know and for you to _never_ find out!”

Ares pouted: “Aww. Come on, won't you tell your big brother?”

“Tartaros, no!”

“Well, then show me what you've been writing there!”

Before Athena could say something, he snatched the scroll from her lap.

The wisdom goddess tried to retrieve it. “Give it back! It's none of your b-!”

“' _The Language of Owls_ '? Seriously???”

.

Meanwhile in the human world, mortals were startled by a loud, thundering noise and began to panic, thinking that Zeus was making it thunder on a sunny day.

This had to be an omen for something and diviners promptly started to attempt to decipher what it meant.

Little did they know, that what they thought was thunder was really just Zeus' son Ares roaring with laughter over his half-sister's writings.

.

“Ohh, girl, you're such an owl!”

“Shut up! _You're_ such a jerk!”, Athena grumbled angrily and took her scroll back. “It's not like you could understand a word anyway!”

Ares finally stopped laughing and raised an eyebrow at her.

“What?”, she spat.

He grinned and pointed out: “Daddy's Owl, if I didn't understand a word, I wouldn't have been able to decipher the title.”

For this scroll Athena had been using owl language, an extremely rare writing system only known to gods, who understood all kinds of bird languages and were associated with owls specifically.

The goddess of wisdom gawked at the god of war.

That got him laughing again: “Oh, you should see your face right now! It's _fantastic_!”

“You can read owl language?!”, the goddess asked incredulously. “When the Tartaros did _you_ bother to learn it?!”

“Athena, in case you forgot, you're by far not the only deity whom owls are sacred to! My sacred animals besides vultures, venomous snakes and woodpeckers are barn owls and eagle owls.”

Oh. Right. That must have slipped her mind. She mentally slapped herself for forgetting that detail. Photographic memory her arse!

“But yeah”, Ares continued, “I did learn owl language, that's how I can read what the scroll says. Cute poem, by the way. Never pinned ya to be the poetic type. That's normally more the thing of Aphrodite, Apollon and the Mousai … uhhh, Owl? Hello? You there?”

Athena was still staring at him, like he had just grown a second head.

The older god cackled: “Holy shit! I gotcha speechless, I can't believe it! What a miracle! I gotta tell the others, they'll never believe it! See ya, Daddy's Owl!”

He darted off to find the other Olympians.

Athena looked after him, then returned her focus on the scroll – oh wait, never mind, it was gone! That arsehole had snatched it again!

“Jerk”, Athena muttered and stood up to go after him and retrieve her property.

Still she couldn't help but smile a little.

As much as she hated this man, there was one thing she had to admit: he never ceased to surprise her.


End file.
